A Joint Journey
by Apollo Wings
Summary: AU. Two Grey Warden Recruits, Collaborative story with Musicalrain. 1st Person Alternating between William Amell and Shiloh Tabris. 2 chapters posted at each update. Both the recruits are as broken by their own lives and experiences but need to put it all aside for a chance to move on and become heroes. Rated M for language, violence, dark themes & adult situations.
1. (Apollo Wings) The Harrowed

Author Note: Oh it's so exciting! I'm co-authoring a story with my bestest FF buddy! The wondiferous Musicalrain!

The chapters will be from 1st person alternating between William Amell and Shiloh Tabris, I'm William and Musicalrain is Shiloh. Obviously we'll try to keep the whole of certain plot bits together - ie - the entire origin in one chapter. Hence - this is a loooong chapter.

Let's get crack-a-lacking eh? All reviews and questions - please say who the question/review is aimed at, ie "Is your warden a douche?" we can't answer unless you say "why is your warden a douche Apollo?"... not that William is a douche. Just saying.

I made a few changes to dialogue and the quests - namely the rod of fire. Mages can make fire with their minds. They don't need to use rods for fire.

Oh - and before I forget. We've both done some concept art for William Amell and Shiloh Tabris over on Deviantart. Just remove the spaces from the link if you want to use it) Obviously - you can see we did our own characters, but I'll be attempting scenes involving William and both of them as the story progresses.

This is William - ( apollo-wings. deviantart. (com/) art/William-Amell-from-A-Joint-Journey-377301544 )

And this is Shiloh - ( musicalrain0. deviantart. (com/) art/Shiloh-Tabris-376812961 )

* * *

**William Amell **

I just couldn't sleep, my head was pounding with the headache that had been building up since Senior Enchanter Wynne's extended lesson two days ago before she left to fight for the King at Ostagar. Especially since Anders had escaped. Argh. I do not want to even think about the extra hours Eadric, Flora, myself and Petra had to handle with that woman without the light-hearted wit from our fellow Spirit Healer in training to break the utter drone of it all. It felt as if she was devoted to making us so bored out of our skulls that we'd happily wander off to a templar, light him on fire and sit patiently for the brand of Tranquility upon our foreheads.

Jowan started snoring and the thud in my head was just in tune with it. Fantastic. As I previously might have moaned. Argh.

There was the clanking and tap of heavy boots on marble and I opened one eye to watch for which poor sod they were taking now. Templars in the night meant three things. Tranquility, Death or The Harrowing. All of which sounded like a leap into Lake Calenhad during Satinalia. At least it could be assured the death would be quick.

The shadows bounced around the room from the torch the lead templar was carrying, casting long dark shapes on the beige sandstone. The clanking quietened down and I smelt the unmistakeable aroma of lyrium close to me. Shit... pretend I'm sleeping. If they're taking someone nearby I might as well just repress another childhood memory. _I am in Starkhaven. I am in Starkhaven. _

No such luck.

My coverlets were pulled off and my robes thrown over me as if my sleeping clothes and body were a disgusting sight. I prided myself upon the fact the templars would find me at least unappealing ever since I'd gotten my illicit tattoos.

Oh... I haven't mentioned those have I? I have dark green circles with trailing tendrils from each of them over a lot of my body. My kneecaps, my shoulders, my elbows - the ones I'm proudest over though are the ones that cover my eyes. Oh how evilly did the templars stare at me when the found out about that habit of mine to be subjected to the work of a needle and a careful hand! Ahem... my mind is wandering. Lest I forget exactly what is happening...

I stared bleary eyed up to the helmet clad face and calmly pulled my robes over my head, standing to adjust the belt so the over-sized garments didn't billow too much. I sat back down as quietly as possible. I'm not going to wake the whole dormitory and make Jowan and the others worry. Not that they'd not worry when I'm not here in the morning. I strapped on the hobnail boots I'd tucked under my bunk in the evening tight to my feet. If I'm dying now at least I'll be dressed well enough. Void take it - I'll be the best looking Tranquil they've ever seen! I suppose my luck with being the favourite to the First Enchanter; his personal protégé has reached its end. I had a good run I suppose.

"Apprentice Amell. Please follow me." The templar who had been watching me dress muttered rather sharply. Might as well comply.

* * *

Luck! Ha! I'm not going to die after all! Yippee-fucking-do-da!

I am however being lead all the way up this Maker forsaken tower to be Harrowed. Oh what joy! I might get my own bed though. Now there's an appealing thought. Not having to share a bunk with Jowan snoring all night. Perhaps this isn't so bad.

"William my lad." First Enchanter Irving was leaning heavily onto his staff, the dust from sleep still in the corners of his eyes and he had to re-wet his mouth to speak again. At least I'm not the only one who was rudely awakened at whatever unholy hour this is. "You are brought here now to undergo the Harrowing. Just as every full mage of the circle before you has. During this you will be traveling into the Fade and must survive pitted against a demon." Wait... fuck... I wasn't listening fully. All I heard was pitted against a demon. This is the Harrowing? I'm a Spirit Healer! I've been in the Fade countless times to converse with spirits and learn how to heal! That's in the job description! Of course there were demons about. If they weren't attracted to the power a mage holds I'd be worried!

"Irving. It is the apprentice's task to complete this on his own. I will not have you telling him how to do this test!" Knight Commander Greagoir snapped. He took looked as if he might fall asleep any moment. With any luck he might and I could just do this.

"So what do I do?" I drawled, looking over to where two templars - both in full helmets were pouring liquid lyrium into a font. Oh! Do I get lyrium to do this? This is much better than I thought it'd be!

"Just touch the lyrium my boy. I can work the magic to do the rest." Irving droned. Well... here goes nothing I hope!

"Know this. Should you fail a templar will slay you where you stand." Great - wouldn't want an abomination running free in the tower now would we?

Stepping over a cracked slab of marble, one can't help but be superstitious about these things. I reached out and placed my palm to the liquid in the font. The burn of static suffused into my hand and jolted up the bones in my arm. Almost by instinct my arm jerked back and I could feel the static clouding over all my senses, my hearing being drowned out and my vision blackening.

Shit. Why do I feel like this is just an elaborate way of saying I'm dead in three... two... one... and I have no idea where or what I am anymore.

* * *

The hum died down and hesitantly I forced my eyes open. I was met by the grey expanse of sky above me and I worked the muscles of my arms and legs to stand. Huh, the ground feels soft. Like grass? I haven't seen or stood on grass since I was six and a brief stint at fourteen when I was transferred to Kinloch Hold, I really can't remember grass. Is my life just to be the memory of grass in the Fade? Maker I hope not.

The rolling hills stretched into a single path in front of me and I could tangibly feel my connection to the Fade tethered to my very soul. I love the Fade! So where's the demon? I thought Irving said something about a demon somewhere in here?

As if sensing my awkwardness over the situation the landscape seemed to lower further down the path ahead. So forward. I can do that. Simple enough. I pushed my muscles to work again and found the image I projected into the Fade moving forward down the path. How do I know I'm not really here in person? I'm a mage. I know this sort of thing like the back of my hand.

Speaking of which, a wisp just coalesced in front of my image. Summoning up my willpower into a peak I grasped for the lightning that I could mould at the flick of a wrist. Damn my awesome Primal skills! That was the main reason Irving was my mentor and I his favourite. I'm just amazing when it comes to Primal spells. I mustn't be too cocky though. Pride is a downfall and I know what happens to prideful mages.

The lighting zapped from my fingertips and the wisp was vanquished before it even had the chance to attack. How was that for pure unadulterated skill! I shook my hand to relieve the burn, snapping my fingers to distract the nerves from misfiring. A staff might have been a neat idea when sending a mage into the Fade huh? Surely that was an oversight on behalf of the templars and Irving? Or do they think I can actually do this without one?

At least it's only a wisp and not the prolonged firing of spells needed against certain denizens of the Fade. Ergo a Demon. Really wish I had my staff now. Was I supposed to have picked it up? Maker I can feel my cheeks reddening as I think.

I carried on through the sensuous air of the Fade, watching in a half-interested way as I saw an old memory float past on a separate plane of the Fade. The day I discovered my powers. I burnt down a merchant stall in the market. Strange that. I can't light up a flame for love nor money nowadays.

The second wisp in so many minutes (from what I hasten to think of as time, Maker knows how long it's actually been while I've been watching memories flutter about and thinking) started floating toward me and a burst of lighting slammed at my chest.

The spell ricocheted about my ribcage, rattling into every bone and pore I could even dream about before I felt like I could breathe again. Holy fucking Andraste!

That's it! I no longer love or even like this Fade experience. I dredged forth the knowledge seeped into my brain and brought the dust particles I could imagine in the air together and forced them to slam around the wisp and tightened it until I felt its small life force drain back into the ether. Satisfied that the spell had worked I put my magically warmed hand to my chest and let the healing grab onto the lines of pain the lightning had made, one thing about magic channelled through hands was how warm it could heat your hands. When we'd first learnt I thought they'd catch fire by the end of the lesson.

"It's always the same. Isn't it?" Where the fuck did that come from? That's not my voice.

"Who are you?" I ventured, feeling a right dolt. Nope. I cannot for the life of me see where the speaker is. I hope I haven't wasted perfectly good time talking back to a particularly vivid, if forgotten for the moment, memory.

"Ah... I'm well. I suppose you can call me Mouse." I looked around and was shocked when I saw the large rat on the floor glow white for the moment before standing in front of me, a middle aged man in red robes with hair the colour of straw and a particularly large nose. Not that I'm looking at his nose. Now I feel awkward. Say something you fool!

"I'm... I'm William. I think." Great. I'm sure a denizen of the Fade such as this 'Mouse' thinks I'm royally clever now eh? Not.

"Yet another lamb for the slaughter then? How long were you an apprentice before they sent you here?" His voice was oddly melancholic, as if he'd... as if he'd been in my boots!

"I'm twenty four I'd thank you very much. And I'm quite the accomplished apprentice." I sniffed. Just why do I act like a total snob all the time? This is why only Flora, Anders and Jowan really like me. Flora and Anders because we were shipped to Kinloch Hold together, her from Rivain, he from the Anderfels and myself from Starkhaven. And the fact she's an elf. Even here in the circle the elves don't get anywhere near enough respect as they should. Alas, right now is hardly the time to wander about my meandering thoughts.

"I'm sure you are. But just how long have you been here?" Mouse posed. Shit. I have no idea. "They'll kill you if you take too long you know. The templars I mean."

"Do they now?" Nobody said anything of the sort before. Well isn't that wonderful? It might have been nice for them to say 'oh by the way - you have two hours.' Bunch of lazy good for nothing- "How long is it then?"

"I'm not quite sure. All I know is I took too long. You can feel the blade upon your neck right now can't you?" Come to mention it, there is a fairy sharp sort of feeling in my throat region.

"I'm not going to die." I said with a bit of conviction. I must be out of my mind. Where did I get this? I believe it's called balls of steel against templars! Now there's something that doesn't happen every day! I'll eat my silly hat if I wake up and find some shiny metal things hanging in my smalls. Maker - I think I can feel them!

"So confident." Mouse smiled weakly. "Do you mind if I watch? I'd like to see if you pass your Harrowing or fail like the others before you." Now that wasn't a vote of confidence. Balls of steel are gone then. And I liked that feeling too. Damn. And with that Mouse became as his namesake and scampered behind me as I carried on through the Fade, waging miniature war with the ever present wisps. Maker I hate wisps when I haven't even got a staff!

* * *

I can feel something. Almost dragging me toward it, the mere presence tingling the hairs on the back of my neck upright. It was then I espied the spirit, a man in heavy armour with a leather apron over his front, bent double over a ghostly forge, puffing the bellows and using tongs to shape whatever he was working on. Stepping into the workshop of sorts he seemed to notice me too and stopped what he was doing.

"Good day mage." His voice fitted his appearance, being booming and robust as he was. "What brings you here?"

"I'm being Harrowed." I replied. Really? I need to learn how to be as eloquent as my own thoughts. "It's a test of my magical skill." Yep... eloquence refined and poured into a mage. That's me!

"They should test you on your mettle; a true mage would be in the midst of combat." The Spirit boomed. "I am Valour."

"Aye, they should, but what can I do about it? Nice to meet you anyway Valour." I shifted awkwardly, looking at the row of metal staves behind him. "May I use one of those?" I pointed at them for effect.

"You think those staves be real mage? They are just as you are - an image of what they should be." Ah - I thought as much. So do I just imagine having a staff in my hands? "If you wish for one then I shall test you as you should be. In combat." Oh shit. No. I'm not fighting a Spirit - not without a staff.

"How about you give me one and then I'll fight you - make it a fair test?" I tried. The Spirit looked me up and down.

"No. You will not always have a staff to hand." No. Not a chance then that I'm going to fight this Valour.

"Then it seems you'd simply wish for me to be dead then. Or fail my Harrowing. Are you the demon I've been sent in here against?" It wouldn't be the first time a demon paraded about as a Spirit.

"How dare you assume as such you petulant little mageling!" Valour roared, thrusting a gauntlet clad hand deep into the forge and pulling out a twisted metal stave and dunking it in a trough of water. "Have the stave for all the good it will do you for refusing me!"

And with that - I had a staff. Neat. So where in the Maker's name is this demon? Mouse followed me with a gleam of interest in his beady black eyes as I scanned the landscape of the Fade. The path dipped to the left of me. So I go that way?

Simple enough. Even I can follow a clear path like that.

As I followed where my brain told me I logically had to go a ghostly wolf charged from the ether, straight at me! Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit! I used the staff to shove the wolf back and prepared to petrify him where he stood when another wolf locked onto my ankle. Despite the leather of my boots that fucking hurt!

Using what little strength I had I kicked it off and slammed my staff into the ground, calling upon the raw power of the soil and dirt beneath to entrap the two wolves. One had to assume the Fade worked as the world did - it was pretty much the only chance I had right now.

Oh yeah, success! Yippee! The earth responded to my magical pull and rose up, clawing at the wolves until they were encased in thick stone. Next point of attack then... Argh! Why can't I remember Irving's lessons when I need to? Oh yes... Lightning! The air cracked with the power, seeking a discharge point and I grabbed a hold of them with my willpower, using the stave in my hands to lure it in before focusing it into the wolves. They howled in pain before dissipating back into the Fade and their stone casing shrank back into the ground. Nice work eh!

Maker my ankle feels like it's been ripped raw! Tentatively, I lifted the hem of my blue robes to check the damage and saw the pink skin poking up from my boot. Lovely. It looks just as it feels. Unstrapping the boot I worked the blue healing magic over the abused skin, watching rapturously as it bubbled and stitched together under my ministrations until it just itched rather than stung like a bitch. I obviously have a low tolerance for pain.

I pushed the boot back on and re-strapped it before lumbering on in the Fade. There was something else here, calling in my very bones. Another Spirit? Or a demon? I didn't have to wait long until I saw the kossith beast, a bear of sorts covered in huge spines and dripping with blood. Even the air smelt of the decay and blood. Argh. Damn my sensitive nose.

"Ah, another mageling scrap. What are you doing here?" It talks? Demon. Has to be. Called it.

"Being Harrowed I hope." I smirked. "And you're the demon I've been sent against then?"

"I am Sloth and it is true I am a demon." He purred. Do I feel drowsy? I feel drowsy.

"So you mean you _not _the demon I'm supposed to fight?" I tried. My head felt like it was stuffed with feathers. I need to fight this.

"No. Another has already staked his claim upon you." He sleepily drawled. My eyebrows rose up. So Sloth is being beaten down... that means Desire or Pride to face. So I can leave? Awesome.

"Could he teach me to be a bear?" Huh? Oh yeah - Mouse was still with me, back in his human form. You know, a meat shield might be nice against the spirit wolves. I might survive relatively unscathed until I do find this mysterious demon.

"I could. If I was so inclined." Sloth moaned.

"Why not? If he wants to learn he should." I felt anger bubbling in my mind, and worse, my headache returning.

"Tell you what mortal. You entertain me to a game of riddles and I shall teach your friend." Sloth posed. Hmm, simple enough - but really? Riddles? With this headache can I think straight?

"Alright Sloth. Start the riddles." I crossed my arms and prepared myself for something utterly vexing.

"The first then. I have seas but no water, mountains but no land. What am I?" Hmm... right, this one was easy enough.

"A Map." I pursed my lips. I think I might be right, but it can't have been that easy right?

"You are correct. Very well. The second. Many use me, and use me well, but none can grasp me for too long. What am I?" Oh... that one was more difficult. Eels are supposed to be slippery. We once caught a few from the lake to be used as basis for learning lightning spells. They're one of the few creatures immune to that particular spell. Oh... slippery? Is that where it lies? I can't be grasped for long... but I'm used a lot?

"A tongue?" I tried. Maker... I'm sure I'm wrong.

"Yes. Your witty tongue." Sloth looked slightly peeved to have been guessed but I felt completely relieved. "The last riddle. In moonlight I captivate but in sunlight I am swept away. What am I?" So a creature of some sort that's nocturnal? Captivating? Argh... my head hurts. I just want to be back in my bunk. Was it policy to put mages half-awake into the Fade to be Harrowed. If so - Argh. My favourite word at the moment. Argh. Wait... sleep.

"You're a dream." I said with some certainty. Sloth growled. Ah shit. I was wrong. I readied myself for some sort of demonic attack but none came. Huh?

"You are right." Oh... Yippee! "I shall teach your friend how to be a bear but after that begone. I grow weary." Suits me fine.

* * *

With Mouse in his bear form I felt rather invincible as more spirit wolves attacked, with Mouse tearing at their incorporeal bodies and my spells wreaking havoc with the others. We were back tracking in the Fade. There wasn't anywhere else to go on this plane of it so I did feel rather daft for having missed a demon by walking past.

All of a sudden flames sprang up in a circle around the two of us and I readied my staff. There was something here; my highly attuned senses (Ha!) could feel it. Something definitely evil.

"So you bring me another pathetic mage do you?" A Rage Demon rose up from the ground, molten and fiery. Now I really wish I could perform a half arsed Winters Grasp. Damn. Senior Enchanter Leorah would have my hide for not listening in her class. Not my fault I'm a natural galvanist rather than an elemental master. I turned to face Mouse. He obviously wasn't talking about me bringing a mage.

"You! You lead me here? I'll show you when he's dealt with you bitch-born - Argh!" I screwed up my face. I can deal with this in a moment. Rage demon is coming toward me.

"I don't have to work for you anymore!" Mouse screamed at Rage. Enough. I felt the air for some of the dust and dirt and brought it together to lock around Rage. He melted his earthen bonds and continued toward me. Oh shit. Lightning!

I shot round after round at the hulking burning monster but still he was advancing. Mouse was in his bear form and I feared being ripped apart until he clamped strong jaws around Rage's spindly flamed arm and dragged him away. I did not expect that... Think... how do ice spells work? Think William think!

Ah! The water in the air? Is there any with all this fire? I searched out with the best of my abilities and ice spikes peaked in Rage, skewering him with a gurgled roar before Mouse tore him in twain. Nice. What wasn't so nice was the smell of burning fur and flesh. That could have been me burning. I kept my staff out and stomped my way to the changing form of Mouse - back to the human facade.

"You. You're the demon here aren't you?" I poked my staff at his chest. Balls of steel very obviously weighing in my smalls. "Why?"

"So full of Pride aren't you mage? You think your way through life and think yourself impervious to attacks upon your mind. Ha! True tests never end and one day I will come back to claim you. I hope you put up more of a fight then." And with that Mouse transformed into the hideous depiction I'd seen in a book once. A Pride Demon. Do I have enough mana to fight him? I'm going to be crushed. Since when was I prideful? Yeah I'm good - and relatively powerful but I never thought I was _full of Pride_... Hmmm... maybe I am? Why is my mind wandering?

I am going to die though aren't I? Why not spend the last few moments of my life thinking? It's the only thing I can actually do right sometimes. "What does that mean?" I blurted.

"You shall see." He laughed before vanishing. Wasn't there supposed to be a fight? Why do I feel light-headed? Oh shit. I failed. I've been possessed.

* * *

My head. It hurts. Being dead doesn't live up to expectations. I swear I was told that being dead meant being free of pain. Hesitantly I opened an eye, expecting the Fade. I saw something much worse. Jowan's nostril.

"Ah! Fuck! Demon!" I kicked out and saw Jowan go sprawling back on the marble floor. "Oh sorry. I have a wicked headache."

"I can see." Jowan laughed, rubbing his backside as he got back up from the floor. "Irving wanted me to tell you to see him when you woke up."

"Argh. Sod Irving. I'm tired and achy." I wiped my eyes of the vestigial residues from sleep. How did I end up in my bunk? Oh Maker... a templar carried me here. I can feel their hands over my body... Argh.

"So what's it like? Do you feel any different?" Jowan leaned conspiratorially closer, biting his lip. "Is it as scary as all the stories?"

"It was harrowing." I smirked. I love messing with my best friend.

"Bastard." Jowan punched my arm. Ow! When did he get any muscles? "You could have done it in your sleep couldn't you?"

"I went into the Fade, battled demons. Yada yada ya - I'm a harrowed mage now. End of." I sat up on the bed and found that I still had my boots on - and my robes. They didn't undress me! Yippee!

"That's it? No smiting and dying?" Jowan said sceptically. I don't blame him. I heard pretty much the same stories too.

"If you fail and get possessed they kill you. Obviously that didn't happen." I shrugged. "Let's go and see what Irving wants."

"I have some things to do. I'll catch up with you later." Jowan then took off, a flurry of robes and curses as I heard him trip up. Same Jowan.

* * *

As I neared Irving's office I heard an argument being fought behind the door. Lovely. It sounds like the Knight Commander. I pushed the wooden door open and sauntered in as casually as possible. My sneaky mage skills are at their best - they didn't notice me!

"Gentlemen. I believe someone is here to speak with you." A third, unknown man spoke. I glanced at him in his battered but shiny silverite armour, dual daggers on shoulder sheaths on his back and his brown hair in a short tail.

"Ah! Just the mage we were discussing." Irving chimed. Great - I lead to an argument. Sounds like me. I'm obviously that special. "Come here lad."

The Knight Commander turned his nose up, a small sneer on his lips as he brushed past me and stalked out of the office. I'm not favourite mage to him. Sucks to be me. "You sent Jowan to get me First Enchanter?"

"Yes. William - this is Duncan. He's the Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden." Irving gestured to the previously unknown man. I think I read something about the Grey Wardens in a book. They're highly skilled warriors I think.

"It's nice to meet you Duncan." I pursed my lips. I think that's polite enough right? "Irving? When do I get access to the better spell books? I'd like to read something that doesn't have crude drawings in the margins."

"All in good time my boy." Irving chuckled. "Oh, a gift for you. Some new robes and a staff of your own. You're rather tricky to get the right size for boy. Too tall."

"It's all those vegetables." I blanched. Irving and Duncan laughed, Irving retrieving a bundle of robes and a wrought iron stave for me. With a blade on the end! Holy Andraste! I'm being trusted with pointed objects! Oh... those robes. Tevinter design with the feathers and green! Oh he knows me too well!

"Now your phylactery has been sent to Denerim." Oh yeah... I nearly forgot about that. I still have the puckering round scar on the joint between my forearm and bicep. I held the new robes close. They smelled new, like soap and fresh linen. I want to wear them.

"Aye, my leash was sent to be looked after then!" I smirked.

"Why do mages have phylacteries taken?" Duncan asked. "If the templars are truly vigilant I wouldn't think a single mage would successfully escape." Good point that. Honestly I have no clue. But I don't think he's talking to me. It is a rather invasive procedure as a child. Flora can't even remember hers being taken - she was only three when she was taken to the tower though.

"Between all of us, the templars are prone to ignoring the most of us. Just the Spirit Healers and those pinpointed as maleficar are really watched with any interest." Irving rasped. Somehow the man sounded like a pipe-smoker. From what I can recall my father was one, perhaps that was why I'd attached so easily to the elder mage. He was a surrogate father of sorts.

"Irving? Would I be able to go find those untarnished books and put my new robes on?" I asked, feeling rather strange still hugging the bundle of robes and staff to me.

"Yes off with you boy!" Irving chuckled. "And will you escort Duncan to the guest chambers?"

"Of course." I motioned for Duncan to follow me, we'd just hop through the central storerooms to the library and the guest quarters were almost next to them. Easy.

"So you're spoken of rather highly by the First Enchanter." Duncan started, following my long strides. "Would you explain why?"

"I'm a galvanist and a Spirit Healer. I learn very quickly." I often wondered myself why I was special. "Can I ask why you're interested?"

"I told the Knight Commander I was recruiting for the King. Only seven mages were sent to Ostagar." Duncan stared at Owain who was neatly stacking boxes. "But in truth I am looking for recruits in the Grey Warden ranks." Oh. Did he mean me?

"I hate healing. It's tedious and I hate blood." I blurted out. "If you're looking at me as a recruit I'll only heal people if it comes to it. I much prefer my Primal spells."

"Well. I shan't ask you to have a look at the blister on my heel then!" Duncan laughed. "Offense magic is incredibly useful however. And I am looking at you as a recruit before I get ahead of myself. Can I ask another question?"

"Yeah... sure."

"You're not Ferelden are you? I believe your accent is Starkhaven." He mused.

"I'm from there. I was in the circle there for eight years too before being shipped to Ferelden. What I'd give for a proper tartan again though - I had some when I was a wee bairn. My father would take me outside at the family estate and try to teach me how to shoot a longbow. He was an archer himself and wanted me to follow suit." I sighed. "I'm ridiculous. I hated tartan as a child. The Amell family had their own one, burgundy with black threads. Have you ever been to the fair city of my birth?"

"I have. It's a rather nice place, clean. I don't think I ever met any Amells though. Doesn't a family tartan mean nobility?" Duncan pursed his lips. I understand.

"From what I understand having mage blood is rather bad for one's image." The ensuing silence was dreadful until we finally managed to pass through the small crowd of apprentices blocking up the library.

"Well... this is your room. Can I pick your brain for a moment Duncan? You've just got me all interested in the Grey Wardens and I want to know a bit about them before I sign up." I gestured into the room and Duncan sat down in a chair, pushing another toward me to sit on myself.

"Go ahead. It is a subject I'm fairly familiar on." I pulled the chair toward me and sat sideways.

"Aren't Grey Wardens warriors?" I asked. "I know I heard mages are used in armies often enough - or some of us would never see daylight."

"Most of us are in fact warriors or rogues." Duncan sighed. "At the moment I haven't a single mage in my ranks. I hope to change that, the darkspawn have all sorts in their ranks, rogue, warrior and mage - if we're to fight them effectively we too should have the same."

"Okay. Second question. Darkspawn. I read in a book that they're notoriously difficult to kill. And pretty damned ugly too." I kept my face as blank as possible but couldn't manage it for long. "Sorry. It actually said they were ugly in the book."

"Don't be sorry." Duncan's face split into a smile. "They are quite ugly, but they die just as anything can."

"Fair enough. Now I'm itching to get into my new robes but I'll take a look at that blister if you want. I do hate healing minor things but I'm not completely averse to some healing. Maker given powers and all that bullshit." Duncan chuckled at my choice of words.

"Oh it's fine. I have some salve. Irving gave it to me." He pulled a familiar looking jar from the pouch on his belt.

"I made that! Irving said he wanted to test my herbalist skills!" I watched in horror as he popped it open. My salves aren't the best. "Maybe healing would be better. You're just as likely to get an infection from that." I flicked my wrist and summoned up a healing aura working it to see if this blister was that bad. "You haven't got a blister."

"I lied. I did want to see how willing you were to heal someone though. Irving told me of your aversion to the healing arts."

"You're a wily bastard aren't you?" I clamped my still glowing hand to my mouth and felt my headache drift away. Shit. Well - there goes my chances of getting out of this tower to be a Grey Warden.

"I like you. You speak you mind." Duncan laughed. At least he was laughing. But if I spoke my mind I'd both be much more eloquent and I'd swear at least tenfold more.

"I'm going to go and change my robes before I end up digging myself a hole. Rather difficult in marble but I'm sure I can do it." I stood up. "I'll speak to you later." And with that I hotfooted it out of the room and back to the apprentice dormitories where I could change.

"Do come and speak with me later William." Duncan called to me as I flitted away.

"Shall do!" I called back.

* * *

I brushed my hands down the new robes. They fit remarkably well. They were even long enough for me - a new feat in robe design! I'd been wearing adult robes for their length since I was fourteen. It was the Amell in me - my father was a rather tall man. I hadn't thought about my origins for a while - the circle had become my life. Perhaps if I ever become a Grey Warden I could see if I have any family left. I can only remember my father Damion, brief glimpses of my mother Revka in the kitchens with flour on her hands and a wizened face I can only assume is a grandfather. That and the tartan. I'd grown to miss it.

What's wrong with me today? Maybe the Harrowing was more of a wake-up than just magically.

"Psst. Will." I turned to the whisper and spied Jowan hiding atop his bunk. Just how long has he been there?

"It's William. What do you want Jowan?"

"I need a favour. Can you just follow me - no questions until we get where I need to go okay?" He leaped from the bunk, stumbling slightly on the hem of his robes. "Nice robes by the way."

"Thanks. I'd prefer something more green though - to match my tattoos." For example - dark green. These were decidedly more leaf green. I sign of my Galvanism - the Tevinter style being that of a Spirit Healer. Red for those skilled in Creation, blue for Elementalists, purple for Arcanists and orange for the Spirit school of magic. I think I might have subconsciously picked the primal school for the colour. Maker knows I hated the dull blue for apprentices. Bright blue like Elementalists was okay I suppose. Argh... follow Jowan - don't trip on the new lengthier robes. Left, right, left, right.

* * *

"Okay, now can I ask a question?" I sighed. "Why are we in the bloody chapel?"

"I wanted you to meet someone. This... William. You know I said I met someone. This is Lily." A retiring but rather pretty girl peered out from behind the statue of Andraste and greeted Jowan with a peck on the cheek. Maker's blood - she's wearing Chantry robes!

"It's very nice to meet you. Jowan speaks the world of you." Lily smiled.

"So you're not gay?" I quipped; my mind was whirling too much to even think.

"Oh ha ha. I'm on the floor in stitches." Jowan rolled his eyes. "I met Lily one night in the chapel. I'd never heard the Chant spoken so beautifully." He glanced down at her and she pinked on the cheeks. I really felt like I was intruding on a very intimate moment.

"Well it's lovely to have met you Lily but I'm going to have to leave. I have a Grey Warden who wants to speak to me." I bowed from the hip and went to leave when Jowan called me back.

"William. I need you to help me. I need to leave Kinloch Hold." Jowan pleaded. That caught my attention.

"How?" I asked, walking back to him.

"I found letters on Knight Commander Greagoirs desk." Lily started, drawing me closer as she dropped her voice. "They intend to make Jowan Tranquil."

"What!" I reeled back. "Why would they do that?"

"There are rumours that I'm a blood mage. They'll take away my magic, my emotions, and my love for Lily!" Jowan pleaded. "We have to leave."

"Are you a blood mage?" I kept my voice low. I don't see too much difference between Spirit Healing and Blood Magic. Both meant deals with denizens of the Fade. But blood magic was destructive to not only others but yourself. Not to mention that it was basically a death sentence if the templars found out. But if Jowan was... I'd defend him. He was one of my few friends.

"No!" Jowan looked shocked. "I can only guess someone saw me sneaking to see Lily and assumed the worst." Oh Maker! I'm going to have to do this. Out of principle. I'm such a bloody romantic at heart. Forbidden love for my friend? I'd save him from Tranquility if it meant he could have this. We couldn't have relationships in the tower. It gave the templars too much power over us. Not that we didn't have sex. We're not wearing chastity belts! But... this was a problem for my friend. I'm a fool romantic! Who'd have thought it?

"Right. So you must have a plan. I'm with you. You have my word." Jowan and Lily leaned toward me, both looking visibly relieved.

"We need to get into the repository chamber and destroy my phylactery. After that Lily knows of a way to get out."

"Right. Let's get going then." And with that - we left the chapel and started to go to the chamber.

* * *

We managed to get to the repository chamber without getting stopped or noticed. I hope. Nobody stopped us. The darkness past the doors was overwhelming and Jowan lit up a ball of fire in the palm of his hand. Dammit I'm jealous of that particular skill of his. The light bathed the dusty corridor up to a locked door.

"Right - how do we get past?" I breathed. Sweat was pooling at the base of my back. Maker - I'm so nervous. I shouldn't be but I really am.

"I know a pass code." Lily approached the door, her hand touching the door in the centre. "Sword of the Maker, tears of the Fade. Now all you have to do is fire a spell at the door."

"Couldn't Jowan have done that?" I asked. I felt rather arbitrary here.

"It has to be from a Harrowed mage." Lily replied. Fair enough. I summoned up a healing spell and fired it at the door. Thankfully those don't require much mana or a templar might have sensed that with how close we were to the main tower.

Quietly the door unlocked and we continued through until we reached a second door. "So how does this one unlock?"

"It's a normal lock. But I'd say we could just melt it with a fireball." Jowan muttered and he focused the flames in his hand to the lock. They spluttered an inch from the metal before dying out. Undeterred, Jowan tried again to have it happen again. "It's not working. Something's wrong. I can't push the flames further."

"There's some sort of anti-magic runes inlaid in the door." Lily answered the unspoken question of why.

"So what do we do now?" I asked. I looked about in the dark, my eyes getting used to the dark and with only Jowan's flame to light the way. "Could that door lead around to the place the phylacteries are?"

"We have to try." Jowan steeled his voice but he sounded rather disheartened. We rushed to the second door and Jowan managed to melt the lock into a mess before it opened. "It worked! Let's see if this is a way around."

Suddenly a clanking brought all of our attention behind us and... Oh Holy Andraste! Those suits of armour are moving! They have swords!

I thrust my staff out and the bladed end knocked a gauntlet off. Oh shit. Oh shit. The sword caught me on the forearm and nothing could have prepared me for the searing pain of my flesh being torn apart. It burnt more than any fire could have and I watched in horror as the blood started pouring from the wound.

Pushing through the excruciating pain I dragged the dusty air together and encased the armoured sentinels in stone. Jowan called for me to duck and I did as flames screamed over me and the metal started to melt beneath the stone until there was nothing left.

"Little help here." I croaked, clutching tight to my arm. "Someone hold it out while I calm down to heal it." Lily rushed over and grasped my blood covered arm, holding it out straight. I closed my eyes, trying to see the lines of pain. Maker this was so much easier on someone else. I'm not made to fight hand to hand. I'm a mage!

Eventually I managed to calm myself enough to let the magic flow from my fingers and suture the flesh back together. It was a glorious cold feeling, numbing the muscle and skin and leaving just a faint pink line on my arm. Argh! I have blood on the hem of my robes from where it dripped. I just got these! I was so happy to get these new robes!

"Are you okay William?"

"Aye, I'm just peachy. Just... fucking itchy. I'll restrain myself from further pain though." I smiled weakly. I can't itch that - it will get infected if I so much as more than rub it.

* * *

After fighting many, many more guardians of the repository chamber and repeating horrid healing in the dark on both myself, Lily and Jowan we managed to end our journey in a large chamber populated with mainly old cobwebbed statues and dusty boxes.

"Hey - those statues over there are Tevinter!" Jowan pointed to the leftmost corner with unabashed glee in his voice, he limped over to them and blew the dust off it. I staggered over myself. Maker my mana is so low. I glanced over to a desk and saw a lyrium potion. I picked it up and uncorked it, downing the bitter concoction and feeling it well up in my veins with its power.

"I am Eleni Zinovia." Jowan backed away from the statue.

"Maker! It talked!" I started healing my fatigued and battered limbs as I crept over.

"Who?" I asked.

"I was the lead concubine of the Archon Valerius' house. I foretold his fall and was cursed to live entrapped in stone. But my prophecy was fulfilled." The statue replied. Well that made some sort of sense. Telling an Archon he'd die would be a pretty risky move. That she was right seemed just to be even worse.

"Is there anything we can do to help you?" I felt some pity for this woman. I suppose in her shoes I'd be rather angry.

"Ah, you are a kind mortal but no. Weep not for me, child. Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And thus shall I endure 'til the Maker returns to light their fires again." Then for some reason she was ignoring us.

"What do you think that means?" I breathed. That felt rather ominous but she was correct about this Archon Valerius.

"Just some ambiguous rubbish, it could mean anything. I can do it too: 'The sun grows dark, but lo! Here comes the dawn!'" Jowan threw his hands in the air to demonstrate his point and Lily stifled a laugh. If she thought that was funny - oh the woman was far gone. Poor girl.

"Let's just find a way to get to the main chamber." I shook my head.

"Hey what about this?" Jowan was dusting off yet another statue, this one of a mabari hound.

"Have you got a thing for statues?" I moaned - which got me a sharp look from Jowan.

"I read something about this. It should amplify any spell shot at it out of its mouth."

"Well we've gone round enough to have gotten to a side entrance of the phylactery chamber if it's here." Argh - my headache is back. I can't waste mana now. I'd bet my new blood stained robes that there'll be more guardians of some sort in the actual place. "If we move that bookcase we can try." Jowan stood back up and limped toward the bookcase.

"Come and help me move this. I'm rather weak at the moment." So am I... hopefully together we'd manage this.

* * *

The noise of firing a lightning spell through the mabari statue and destroying the crumbled wall behind the bookcase was tremendous. I could almost feel people waking and rushing toward us. We'd have to be quick. How do I get myself in these situations?

Coughing we entered the room and I could feel a sort of thrum emanating from the red vials of blood about the room. Sometimes being a healer and forever linked to the life force of others was a rather useful thing.

"We're here. Maker! We did it!" Jowan whooped but he froze when a suit of armour started toward him. He pulled the staff we'd found on our travels from his back and fired ice to halt the sentinel where it stood.

Two more sets of armour woke up, one starting toward Lily and she drew the dual daggers we'd looted from fallen foes beforehand and batted it away before I kicked the one coming at me away.

I summoned up my willpower and cast lightning at it and watched how it bounced between the three sentinels in the room, frazzling them still as we each thwacked and beat them back. The air was thick with rubble dust and I used that to my advantage, drawing the particles to cohesive clumps and throwing them with my mind at the sentinel attacking me, cracking it apart with the sheer force. I may not have the muscles of a strong man but dear Maker I could make stone into fists to punch for me!

My own foe defeated I turned my attention to Lily who was fiercely attacking with one arm, the other hanging limp to her side. I swung a stone fist at her sentinel and then saw Jowan cast flames at it, melting the stone and metal together into a twisted metallic horror. I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my arm and dredged forth the healing aura needed to fix Lily's arm. She presented it without any ceremony, wincing as I pulled the bones into the correct places before my ministrations could fully work. Her ulna and radius had been smashed by the mace wielding sentinel but it was not too much of a problem as I focused on bring the shards of bone back into place under her skin. She'd be bruised but would survive.

Jowan finished pacing when Lily brightened up and gave me a quick hug. "Thank you. That one hurt more than any of the others."

"You're... you're welcome lassie." I stammered, completely unsure as to what the protocol was when dealing with the lover of my best friend hugging me.

"I was really worried." Jowan pried Lily away and the two started searching via date for his phylactery. "William?"

"Aye my friend?" I mumbled, still in shock from being hugged. I was doing this for Jowan. Not for anyone else. But I just realized this was as much for him as it was for Lily. She wouldn't be able to love Jowan in any world where he was a mage, and in any world he wasn't a mage they never would have met.

"I was wondering. Do you want to escape with us?" I paused a moment. I really should. I'd feel like an extra wheel to their cart but if it was ever found out I'd helped them escape I'd be thrown in solitary, made Tranquil or dead within moments.

"My phylactery is in Denerim. I can't escape without drawing the templars to the both of you. I'll just have to stay behind." I felt so noble saying those words. So bloody self-sacrificing. That's just me though isn't it? Bloody lovely.

"We could try to get to Denerim and destroy yours you know." Lily stated. That was sweet of her.

"I'll be fine. Just name your first-born after me and I'll be grand." I smirked - to whit Lily promised she'd name their first born either William of Wilhelmina depending on the sex of it. What a lovely girl. Jowan was lucky and she wasn't. But what can you do? The heart obviously is blind.

"I've found it!" Jowan drew us out of our short conversation. He was holding a small vial, his blood in the base of it and his name on it. Jowan Levyn. "Just one small slip and I'm free."

"Well break it. We're waiting." I cursed under my breath about drama being caused not helped by my friend and he dropped the vial to the ground and burnt the blood away.

With that - we left the chamber as quickly as possible, me scouting ahead in case any of the sentinels decided to reawaken. Luck was on our side and we didn't have a single foe in our way.

* * *

Luck was decidedly not on our side. As we exited the repository chamber we were greeted by four men. Knight Commander Greagoir, First Enchanter Irving, Duncan and a templar I recognized as Ser Cullen. Oh... now Duncan won't want me as a Grey Warden.

I'm dead. I can't escape and I'm dead. I think I've been resigned to that ever since I was 'woken up' last night for my Harrowing. How sad was that really?

"She doesn't seem to be a thrall of the blood mage. Almost as if she'd completely aware of herself." Greagoir commented.

"Jowan isn't a blood mage." I said as calmly as possible. "But you all forced his hand with having to do this. Just why can't we have relationships? We're people not animals waiting to be culled!"

"And I'm severely disappointed in you my boy." Irving turned his attention to me. "You can't go flouncing circle rules."

"They're stupid rules." Wow. Balls of steel - literally. I'm pretty sure I weigh more in the smalls region.

"Send the initiate to Aeonar and prepare the brand for two mages." Greagoir ordered Ser Cullen.

"No! I won't let you touch her!" Jowan screamed and he drew the dagger off of Lily's belt and brought it heavily down into his palm. He growled in rage before the vortex of blood swirled around him. Oh shit!

I trusted him. It wasn't the blood magic that I was concerned about. He swore to my face he wasn't a blood mage. I was betrayed. Played like a fool. The magic knocked me back and I lay there still in shock, watching my friend having unleashed the power of a demon at not only myself but Greagoir, Irving, Cullen and Duncan. I saw from my sideways vision Jowan stop the vortex and approach a cowering Lily.

"Come on. We need to escape now!" Jowan pleaded, a bloody hand extended to her. I could see through his other hand. Even with my own healing that would scar horribly. But blood mages were well known as being slow to heal naturally and unable to heal themselves.

"Blood magic is evil, Jowan. It corrupts people... changes them..." Lily was still cowering. "Go. I never want to see you again." Jowan hesitated for a moment before limping past me, barely sparing a moment to glance down at my pain wracked body before disappearing from sight.

I strained against almost invisible bonds and stood, my hands lighting with blue healing and fixing the internal haemorrhaging that all four of the men who'd come to confront us had as well as the minor bruises I had forming on my back. I helped Irving up. I have to fix this.

"I didn't know he was a blood mage First Enchanter. I stand by my decision to help him but I didn't know."

"He surprised us all my boy." Irving rasped.

"He needs to be caught. Cullen. Round up some of the other templars, Ser Irminric should be best suited to hunting the blood mage. Now man. Move!" Greagoir ordered the younger man. "As for the initiate! Where is she?"

"I'm here Ser." Lily crept out from the corner she'd backed herself into. "I submit myself to whatever punishment is deemed necessary by the Chantry for cavorting with a blood mage."

"She didn't know he was a blood mage!" I tried. Lily was a sweet lass. She didn't need to have been mixed up in this mess.

"You were a good friend William. But I signed my own death warrant." She put on a brave face but I could see beneath her facade.

"As for you! Sneaking into the repository chamber! It's locked for a reason! I ask this once and I want complete honesty. Did you take anything?" Greagoir turned his attentions to me. I felt so short compared to him despite the fact I was actually taller. It might have been the armour. Or the booming voice. I was rather lanky.

"No. Jowan found a staff but personally I took nothing." I glanced down at my feet. So this was the end of me. How fitting. I die because I helped a friend.

"Knight Commander - if I may intervene?" Duncan entered the conversation.

"Stay out of this Warden. This is Circle business." Greagoir snapped.

"Then I hereby use the Right of Conscription to take this mage and make him a Grey Warden."

"What!" My jaw dropped in shock.

"No! This mage has broken Circle rules and helped a blood mage to escape!" Greagoir turned on Duncan.

"The Wardens need a mage that not only can heal as he does but a man who will stay by his friends no matter of the consequences." Duncan calmly stated. "He is now under my jurisdiction. You have no hold over him anymore."

Greagoir cursed and walked out the room angrily, muttering about interfering Wardens and blood mages. I couldn't blame him. In his shoes I'd be rather angry myself. In my shoes however... wow. I'm utterly flabbergasted. So I'm still going to be a Grey Warden? "You. You still want me in your ranks?"

"Don't think this is saving your life. You'll be forced to face the darkspawn for the rest of your Maker given time." I nodded and gulped when he said that. "Grab whatever you can in the next ten minutes and come along. We'll be leaving the tower."

"I have everything other than my satchel with my alchemical kit and my journal. If I can retrieve those?" I asked to both Irving and Duncan.

"Run for them boy. You'll be needing them." Irving winked. Had he planned this when... was I spotted helping Jowan and Lily?

* * *

I slung my satchel over my shoulder and picked up as many small inconsequential things I could. My family pin I'd had since I first came to the tower. It was old and the family motto scrubbed from age from it but it still looked radiant in its red paste heraldry. I pinned it on my chest between the thin chains holding my pauldrons on and hurried out of the dormitory to see Duncan waiting with someone I didn't know.

"This is Gregor. He's a Warden from the Anderfels and will be taking your to Ostagar to meet my other recruits while I go and find another recruit." Duncan answered my unspoken question. I took in the huge beard that he had tucked into the belt of his massive armour and the over-sized rucksack on his back with the axe larger that my waist hooked to the side.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Denerim. I hope to find the child of an old friend and see if she wants to join us as well." He stated.

"Could you get my phylactery while you're there? I'd hate to be hunted down while being a Grey Warden." We started to move down the hall at a brisk pace. I saw the downed templars at the door at the base of the tower and knew Jowan had taken them out from the blood leaking from their eye sockets. They were dead. I'd helped kill people today. Maker preserve me, we're all people. Not just mages and templars. I couldn't help but feel at least slightly saddened by their deaths.

We stepped out into the biting wind and I saw the ferryman with his boat calling us over. The sky was dark and the waters choppy but we didn't have much choice here.

I was outside. After so many years of being cooped up. Outside. Ew... I have mud on my boot.


	2. (Musicalrain) The Wedded

Author Note: Hi! It's Musicalrain here.

Apollo already said everything you need to know, but like in William's origin, some things will be changed and/or left out in this origin (like Elva - I don't like her much).

We appreciate all and any reads, reviews, follows, etc. Anyone who reads and reviews is awesome! Hope you'll like our story (and William and Shiloh of course). Give Apollo all the hugs for suggesting this awesomeness too! :D

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

Someone is poking me in the shoulder blade, and it's not pleasant. I reach out halfheartedly with the arm being poked, and try to push away the poker. They poke back. Harder.

"Sod it! Leave me alone!" I grumble at the poker, and bury my face further into my thin pillow as I wrap my arms around it to shield my eyes from the sun streaming through the ratty curtain near my bed.

I hear a feminine laugh followed by a familiar voice saying, "Don't you know what today is, silly?" as they sit near my knees on my narrow mattress. I don't answer, thinking that if I pretend I'm asleep they'll leave. They pull the pillow out from my grasp and my head hits the mattress.

I angrily push myself on my hands and glare over my shoulder at the poker and pillow-snatcher, "Why'd you do that Shianni?!" She smiles widely, all innocent-like. Sometimes I hate my cousin.

"You can't stay in bed all day. You have things to do!"

"I don't think I have a Blighted thing to do, but sleep!" I grab the pillow back, throwing it over my face as I turn onto my back. The younger girl has the nerve to giggle.

"You have to get married sometime, Shiloh." I lift the pillow up enough to glare at her, "Your betrothed came early."

"And just why are you so happy about this _wonderful _news?" I toss the pillow to the side, and bring my legs up to my chest as I sit up. Shianni won't let me sleep. And I need to sleep, as I'm still exhausted and achy from last night.

And don't look at me like that. I know you have a dirty mind, but I wasn't doing _that_ thank you very much. Ahem. Where was I? Oh. Right. Last night. Well, since my oh so sweet father decided to sell me off to the highest bidder, I've had the compulsion for violence. It's a good outlet for someone in my shoes. Mother was kind enough to teach me a good method for it too, before those fucking shem killed her for holding a blade. It's not easy hiding the kind of blade we use, after all. So that's always a risk we take for daring to wield a blade as tall as myself. And I'm about average height for an elf. Ah, my greatsword. I do love Holly so. She was a gift from Mother. I can't bring myself to use Mamae's blade, not after I saw Adda bring it home covered in her blood.

Oh. I went off on a tangent. That happens sometimes. I do love to tell stories, even though I'm far from a bard being the warrior that I am. And I'm gonna be generous enough to call myself one. A warrior. But last night's exertion came from a pit fight down by the docks. I know, surprising, right? I would never do that... That was sarcasm in case you didn't know. The fights were highly illegal, dangerous, filthy, crowded, loud. And I loved it! If I could, I'd beat jackasses for a living. Heh, the thought is enough to bring a smirk to my face. Shianni thinks the smirk is due to something else.

"You look a little happy too," she squeezes my knee. "He's very handsome you know. Nelaros. His name goes with his face. Both quite handsome. You're lucky."

I push her hand off of my knee, "You're daft if you think I'm happy about Nelaros."

She frowns a little. Aw. I'm already almost sorry I was mean to her. Almost. "Then why were you smiling?" She pokes my split lip suddenly. Ow! That hurt just as bad as stepping on a piece of glass! How sharp does she file her damned nails? "Is it because of this? Shiloh, what _were_ you doing?"

I hold the pads of my long fingers to my lips. Damned thing's threatening to bleed again. "Having fun."

She rolls her eyes, "I know your idea of fun is... warped." She stands up as she offers me a hand, "Come. Nola has our dresses, and you need a bath. You stink, cousin."

* * *

I. Hate. Shianni. She's put me in a dress! It's horrible! C'mon. Think about it. How in Thedas are you supposed to _do_ anything in a dress? The fabric gets in the way when you try to run, it tries to trip you when you're going up stairs, and it covers up the goods. I have no shape but rectangle in a dress. It hides my curves! They're tiny, I know, but I'm happy with them. And there's not many, especially since I use Holly so often. At least you can see them when I wear my hose and tunics! Ugh. I already hate Nelaros more since his presence requires a dress. Apparently I can't say hello to him when I look like a 'boy'. I swear to you, some of the guy shems wear things that no sane woman would put on their body. I don't think 'boy' is a good description of how I dress.

But I digress. After Nola, Veranya, and Shianni shoved me rather rudely into a tub of warm, soapy water (and they're my bridesmaids – yippee!), I was scrubbed clean with a rough brush and lavender scented soap. Lavender! I smell like an Orlesian pansy! And then Shianni gave me a dress. Not gave as in, 'here why don't you try this on, and see how you like it?', no she shoved it in my arms and my 'friends' pushed me behind the changing screen before I could protest. They're my best friends. I hate them.

So now I'm here standing in this horrible green and grey dress, looking oh so much like a wrapped box, behind said changing screen. I'm not letting anyone see me like this. And I have to get married – in a different dress! Oh, yeah. I'm not happy with the whole arranged marriage business. I know it's tradition, blah, blah, blah. But, I've always thought that if (and that's a big IF) I ever were to get married, I'd meet him on my own. My dream guy, and every girl has a dream guy, unless they prefer lady company then I guess it'd be dream girl, would be at least taller than me, gem-colored eyes, and not at all adverse to their lady holding a weapon. Which brings to question if Nelaros knows if I like to beat people into unconsciousness for fun? Well, I guess it'll just have to be a nice surprise.

"Shiloh!" Ah shit. Shianni. She's interrupted my lovely little daydream of taller men fawning all over Holly. "I know you have to be dressed by now. Come out here so we can work on your hair."

I put my hands on my hair in response to her words. Oh my poor scalp. I come out from behind the changing screen slowly anyway. If you think I can get angry, you haven't seen Shianni when she looses her patience. Girl hunts to supplement our dinners, with a bow she hides in the floorboards, and as a result her slaps _really _sting.

When I come out, I see Veranya come towards me with a small bundle of wildflowers, and Shianni with a comb. "Those sodding things better not be going where I think they're going!" They continue to come closer. "I will punch you!"

Shianni laughs, "No you won't." I hate her. And she's right. I'd kick anyone's arse that tried to hurt her or Soris, and I have before.

The three other women manage to push me onto a stool, and run a comb through my jaw-length hair. I do allow myself a little vanity. Hey, I might like to beat people to a pulp, but I'm still a girl. My hair angles longer towards the front, I'm really fond of that cut, and in terms of color it's very much the same as Shianni's. Shianni and I actually look very similar, and could probably pass for sisters, except that I have the blue eyes of my father, and a little more color to my skin, as Mother had a fairly dark complexion. I take after my father's family in traits, sadly. Mamae was beautiful. Actually, Shianni and I are more like sisters than cousins anyway. Aren't cousins supposed to be distant?

During my internal musings on familial traits, they girls somehow managed to braid two braids coming from the front of my head and meeting to the back. They're dotting it with those damnable flowers. I will look, and smell, like a flower pot. If Nelaros expects me to look and smell like this on a regular basis, then he has another thing coming. I much prefer my 'boy' clothes and non-flowery smelling ways.

I stand up rather abruptly once Nola clasps her hands together all excitedly and declares that they're done. I don't know how much more of this I can handle. Will the wedding dress be worse? Maker, I hope not. I will loose my mind.

"So! We're done?" I want to _leave_.

Nola rolls her eyes, Veranya shakes her head, and Shianni crosses her arms. What'd I miss? Oh sodding socks! No more! Shianni sighs and loosens her arms, and I take that as a good sign. "We're not dressed well," she says as she gestures to the other two. "But... I suppose you could go find Soris. He already got ready while you were sleeping like a bear in winter. And we can get ready on our own. Just look for us when you meet Nelaros and Valora."

I leave without asking where the Void Soris is supposed to be. I desire the freedom of not wearing a dress, and that can only happen the quicker we get over this 'hello' business. Oh snap. Then there's the wedding. I can feel my face pulling into a grimace. I will be marrying a man I only met once before the wedding. This should _really _be pleasant, don't you think? Hey! How'd you like to be in my place?

I scurry away towards my home, well, my father's house. Father does well for himself, and we're better off than most in the alienage, so our house is one of the larger homes on the far side. I pass an elderly couple who were friends of my mother's on the way home. They give me their best wishes, and I wave politely to them in passing. I have some manners!

I open our door, and quickly scan the area for Soris. No such luck. Where'd he get off to then?

"Oh, my dear. You look beautiful." Hmm? Oh. Father. Since when was he standing there? I smile at him, and he sighs as he tucks one of the smelly flowers further into my braid. "Your mother would have been so pleased to see you, child."

"I can hardly be considered a child anymore, Father. I'm a bit old for that."

He chuckles, "Twenty is not as old as you think."

"Then..." Should I try it? Oh, why the sod not? "Is it not old enough to be married off?" I choose not to say 'sold like a prized pig'. He wouldn't like that much, I think.

He sighs again, but this time with a shake of his head, "Unfortunately, it is. The sooner you're married, the sooner you will be considered an adult and can make a life for yourself. I've already paid the dowry, and it's too late to change the decision. I wouldn't change it, even if it wasn't. Your mother and I were married at this age. It only follows that you do too."

I can't help but frown, "But I don't like the idea of an arranged marriage."

"I know dear," he touches my shoulder gently. "Will you go through with it?"

He's really forcing my hand now, isn't he? That's just great. How can I say no to my father? I deflate at his question. I'm _such _a daddy's girl. "Yes. But only for you."

He hugs me lightly, "Thank you, my daughter." He releases me, "Now go. I'm sure you have things to do."

I step out of the house and try to decide where to go next. If I were Soris, where would I be? Hm... Hiding, but hiding where? Ah. Near the gates under the house stilts. So predictable. He's been going there to hide since he was a child, and he didn't want to play in our games. For some reason he never liked Shianni's 'tea parties'. I wish I were only so lucky to have escaped. Then and now.

I pass by the vhenadahl tree on my way to Soris' hiding spot. He's grown, he has learned how to use a blade, so then why does he still hide?

I see Nessa and give her a friendly wave. I had helped her convince her parents to let her stay with Adda while her parents go to Ostagar. She's a nice girl, and one of Shianni's friends. If she weren't, I probably wouldn't have offered her a place to stay with my father. Shianni also helped to convince Father for her friend. The guy can't deny two sets of pleading puppy-dog eyes, who could?

I weave my way around one of the many, many piles of filth (the alienage is oh so charming), and find my cousin leaning against one of the above house's stilts looking out the gate with an obvious longing to flee. Oh, don't I know the feeling! But I _just _promised to go through with this whole arrangement, so I'm for sure making Soris go through with it too. I'm _not _suffering alone. He will suffer beside me!

I stand in front of him, and it takes his eyes a moment to focus on me. "Daydream much?" I ask with a role of my eyes. He doesn't seem nearly – _nearly _as forcibly prettied up as I was. No one's gonna make him wear flowers in his hair. Lucky sodding guy. Hmph.

"Shiloh?" Did his eyes just widen? Why does my appearance seem so surprising? First my father, but he's my _father_, and now my cousin? Well, if I ever need a disguise I'll just shimmy into a dress and dump a basket of flowers on my head.

"Yup. Crazy, huh?" I punch him lightly in the shoulder, "We've got to meet our betrothed."

He groans. "Oh, don't remind me. Have you even seen yours?" He doesn't wait for a reply, "Valora is so mouse-like. Maker, her voice!"

I chuckle at his expense. "You're probably exaggerating." He groans again, "Or you're not. Too late to run away though!"

"Ha, ha. Very funny," he drawls. "Come on. Let's go meet our betrothed." Ah, Soris. What would I do without your reiteration of my exact same words? Hm? Oh! Probably say them myself. Oops. I should probably try to rein in the biting sarcasm right now. It wouldn't do to scare Nelaros so bad that he ran for the hills after our first conversation. Or would it?

* * *

I walk side-by-side with my second favorite cousin (shh) back towards Nola's to see if the other girls have finally finished their primping. Oh! My best friends! There they be! And they have flowers in their hair too. What _is _the deal with that? Dead plant life makes your hair look more alive in comparison? Having flower petals fall into your eyes is fun? Right! Sarcasm.

Shianni waves excitedly towards us once she sees us through the ever-present crowd of bodies. She is _really _hyper today. She needs to put a damper on it.

And what's this? A shiny trio of jackass human men. There's only three reasons a human would venture into the filth and mass of the alienage. One – they're a property owner. Two – they're a guard. Three – they're the Arl's feces-toothed son. Guess which one is here now? Messere shit-breath!

Oh no. He did _not _just grab Nola's arm and start pulling on her. Move mass of people! I have someone's arse-face to punch! Nola runs after she's pulled away to hide behind me as Soris and I approach. Smart girl.

"There's a party, isn't there?" Eww. I can smell his breath from here. Ever hear of mint? "Well, grab a whore and let's have a good time!" He laughs. And did he just call me and my friends whores? I'm gonna punch his face in so hard, he'll be spitting diarrhea. I go to step forward and do just that, but Nola pulls on my arm to keep me from moving. She's adamant in using me as a living shield.

"Be sure to savor the hunt, my friends." I'm gonna vomit if he keeps talking. "Let's take this little elven wench." Did he just squint his arse-face at Shianni? Seriously Nola – get off the arm! "She's so young and vulnerable..."

"Lay a hand on me, and I'll gut you, you pig!" Totally my sister from another mother.

One of Shianni's friends speaks up. Dylyan? Dorrian? Despian? "My lord! Please! We're only celebrating weddings!" And Vaughan backhands him. _How _in the sodding Void does Nola have such a grip? I need to get over there.

"Nola," I whisper to her. "You have to let go."

Soris overhears me and too whispers, "I don't think we should get involved."

"And why shouldn't we? We're gonna let him abuse our friends?"

"No... No we shouldn't. Ah, fine. But at least speak to him before you start a fight."

Oh. Well it seems the arse face finally noticed our little group standing not too far away, as Nola anchors me to the spot. If anything, her grip got tighter after I spoke to her.

"Oh? Another lovely thing to keep me company?" His breath gets only worse the closer he gets.

"You should leave before you regret it," I ground out between clenched teeth. Pompous arsehole. I _really _want to punch him. I hate Soris.

"Ha!" Oh, I just got a stronger whiff of his breath. "Don't you have any idea who I am?"

He's playing the 'who I am' card now? Like what elf doesn't know who reason number three is for a human coming into the alienage.

Shianni? What's she doing? Oh... She's got a bottle in her hand. She really must've lost her patience then. Nola. Needs. To. Get. Off. My. Arm!

Shianni broke the bottle over his head! Favorite cousin! I give her a big grin, but then the shit-breath starts to fall towards me and Nola. Nola squeaks, and _finally _releases my arm. I move away as he falls forward on his face. Maybe his breath will stink less with the help of a mouthful of dirt?

One of the cronies speaks up, "That knife-eared wench just broke a bottle over Vaughan's head!"

"Yes how very observant of you," I state and move towards the 'friend' of Vaughan's that spoke up. "If you keep that up, you'll join him."

His face scowls "You'll regret this, knife-eared wench!" Him and his buddy pick up Vaughan's unconscious body and move as quick as they can away from us. Oh, they're so brave and scary!

"Why'd I just do that?" Shianni looked at us with wide, fearful eyes. Not good to start having second thoughts after the fact.

"It'll be okay," Soris tries to soothe to his cousin. I wonder which of us is his favorite? "He's not going to tell anyone he got taken down by an elven woman."

Shianni groans, "I hope you're right." She looks down at her dress, now littered with glass shards. "I should get cleaned up."

She turns to leave, and I grab her elbow, "Hey." She looks at me. She is young, isn't she? Why does she feel bad about what she did? "You did good. Okay?" She nods and leaves with Nola and Veranya on her heels.

Nelaros and Valora walk up to us from different directions. Were they just standing there watching? It's entertaining watching your future spouse getting harassed by shems? I haven't even spoken to Nelaros and I hate him. Well, Nelaros isn't _too _bad looking. I guess Shianni wasn't full of it when she spoke about him. A little taller, pretty eyes (is it odd to call a man's eyes pretty?), and do I see some muscle tone? Ooh. A fellow swordsmen then. How come no one ever told me? Let's just hope his voice isn't as horrid as Valora's. Soris is trying to reassure the girl that everything is okay, and the guy wasn't joking about her mousiness. Poor Soris. Hopefully he doesn't get the compulsion just to go deaf so he won't have to hear her anymore. It'd be tragic.

Soris elbows me. Hey! I'm allowed to daydream too! He does it enough. He clears his throat, "Umm. This is Valora, my betrothed."

I look towards the blond man standing awkwardly near me, "And that makes you Nelaros."

His eyes dart to the side. Flighty, aren't we? Well I just was, and still kinda am despite my promise to Father. "A-and you're Shiloh?"

"Last time I checked," I quipped.

He frowns. That was supposed to be funny! Apparently my imminent punching of someone in a dress is amusing, but an actual joke isn't.

"We'll leave you two to talk." Soris! He's abandoning me!

Nelaros clasps his hands together in front of himself once the other two move off a little ways away. "Well... Are you nervous?"

Apparently he is. I don't know if I am though. I still have the desire to run, but... I'm resigned to my fate. Father would be disappointed, and I don't want to make the man sad. It's sad when he's sad. "Not exactly. How about you?"

"I'd thought I'd be fine, but actually seeing you... Well, let's just say I'm not." Apparently I've put the man off. I do look like a hideous Orlesian flowerpot! I'm going to kick my friends' arses! Tunics and hose people! The way to go.

He's looking at you Shiloh. Say something! "Uhh... How do you... feel about moving to Denerim?" That was an intelligent question. Not. He probably hates having to move. I know I would.

"It... it was difficult to leave Highever, but you were spoken very highly of, and rightfully so." So is he put off or not? Make up your mind man!

Soris leans into my shoulder. He's not conspicuous at all. " C'mon, Shiloh. We should let them get ready for the wedding."

"Right," I nod towards Nelaros. "I'll see you in a bit then."

"Don't disappear on us," Valora says. She's a clinger. Poor Soris. Again.

Nelaros starts to walk away, and says over his shoulder, "Or we'll come find you." He's a clinger too! Oh, poor me.

Soris and I start walking towards Nola's for the remainder of the wedding preparations. Another dress! Hooray!

Soris suddenly stops in his tracks and nudges me, "Err, it seems we have another... problem."

I look at him with a raised brow, "Is it arse-face again?"

"What?" Heh. His voice went up an octave. "No," he points in the distance. "Another human. He could be one of Vaughan's, or just another troublemaker."

I turn in the direction he's pointing and see a tall, dark skinned and haired human man with shiny, obviously well kept for armor and twin daggers strapped to his back. He's not one of the guardsmen. I can't see the mark of Denerim anywhere on him, and his style of armor is unfamiliar. What's he up to? Is he a mercenary on a job? A shem thinking it's fun to make elves cower away from him? Because, you know that sea of people I had told you about? There's a good radius of empty space around this guy. No one wants to get too close. Well! Good thing I'm not no one!

"Let's go have a chat and find out." I leave towards the human without waiting for Soris to agree or not. He'll probably just tell me not to pick a fight, especially as the guy's armored. I know, I know. Words. I try to use them, promise.

The human sees us approach, and... is that a smile? What? He crosses an arm across his chest and bends his head as we stop to stand in front of him. "I believe congratulations are in order? It is your wedding day, is it not?"

I tilt my head at him. What in the sodding Void? How's it he knows it's our wedding day? Oh, right. Flowers and dress. Ugh. I'm still suspicious about him, even though he's being polite. It's a front. I'm sure. "Thanks. But, you need to leave, human. Before there's trouble."

There's laughter in his voice and the corners of his eyes crinkle, "What kind of trouble are you referring to?"

I cross my arms over my chest. I'm apparently quite amusing. Damned flowers. "Humans don't belong in the alienage. Trouble always follows."

"Well, I apologize, but I have no intention of leaving."

I scowl. By Andraste, are all humans so thickheaded? "Look here, shem. If you don't leave here right now-"

"Shiloh!" Shit. It's Valendrian. "I didn't know you were in the habit of threatening Grey Wardens." My eyes widen. This man's a Grey Warden? Mother told me stories. She always had lots of stories. "It's good to see you again, Duncan."

"As it is to see you, my old friend."

Holy flaming Maker's shoes! It's Duncan! I remember Mother talking about him. They were good friends.

* * *

_"Shiloh," I look towards Mother. She's trying very hard not to laugh. And I can tell. Her golden eyes look more yellow when she's amused. "What are you trying to do?"_

_I scowl and look away from her towards the pillar I've been hacking away at for the past half-hour with Holly. It's decorated with gashes all over. I shrug. "Practicing."_

_"So you sneak out to our hiding place all on your own to 'practice' chopping a piece of wood?"_

_"I'm not chopping wood," I clarify and hold up two fingers of one of my hands in quotes, "It's a 'darkspawn'."_

_She can't help but laugh now. "So you plan on being a Grey Warden then?"_

_I lean Holly against the pillar and turn to face Mother completely, "Maybe I will."_

_"Well, then I should send word to Duncan and tell him you're interested," she says with a teasing lit to her voice._

_I furrow my brow. "Who's Duncan?"_

_Both of her light eyebrows raise, "What do you mean, who's Duncan?"_

_"I don't know who he is," I huff._

_"He's the Warden Commander I've been working with since you were a babe, dear. Remember?"_

_I walk over near her, and sit heavily on the crate she's been leaning against. Our 'hiding place' is an abandoned warehouse near the docks. I've been coming here since Father's allowed me to learn my Mother's skills at her hand. That was three years ago for my thirteenth nameday. "You always call him 'the Commander'."_

_"I do?" She brings one of her hands up to tap her fingers against the dark skin of her chin, "I never realized that. Huh. What else haven't I told you?"_

_I shrug, "I don't know. I know he's a shem, and likes to use two daggers, right?" She nods, "And you always work with different Wardens, or just him."_

_"Oh," my mother's expression brightens. "I suppose I've told you plenty of war stories, right child?" This time I nod. "How about I tell you a story about the Commander?"_

_"You're calling him 'the Commander' again," I smile. "Sure, Mamae."_

* * *

That brief memory fades from my mind's eye, and a bittersweet smile crosses my face. I never met Duncan either. Mother had planned to introduce us once I was skilled enough with Holly to 'be impressive', but she was slain just weeks before our planned trip. There was no funeral for her. The guards... dealt with her remains, but one of the servants were able to get her blade to my father. It was all we had to mourn her by.

"I'm sorry, Commander Duncan," I apologize. "I should have recognized you from my mother's stories. I don't know your business here, but things are... tense right now."

He nods his head. "It's alright, child. Adaia was a dear friend. She spoke very kindly of you, I only regret that we've not met before." He rubs his jaw with his hand, "As for my business, are you aware that there are troops gathering in the south at Ostagar to battle the emerging darkspawn horde?"

Well that's... troubling. I'm sure Mother would've had a few choice words if she'd known that. "I was not."

He shakes his head, and pauses for a moment before saying, "I'm in the city looking for a recruit to join our ranks at Ostagar. We're in need of more Wardens if we're to fight the darkspawn properly."

What's he mean by that? Before I get the chance to ask, however, the elder interrupts, "Enough of this talk now, Duncan. Allow the young folk to prepare for their weddings."

I can't help but glare at the elder a little. What's going on here? Valendrian's hiding something, I know he is. He gets this weird twitchy thing with his left eye when that happens. Duncan turns to me and extends a hand, "It was very nice to finally meet you, Shiloh Tabris. I wish you well with your ceremony."

I take his hand, "Thank you again... Will you be staying for the wedding?" I'm not sure why I care, but he knew my mother almost as well as Father, and more than any of my Mother's other friends. Perhaps this shem is the closest thing to an uncle I have right now. That's a funny thought. I'm a little surprised I think that way. And not sarcastically either.

He nods his head, "I believe I shall, if you'll allow me?"

I feel my mouth pulling into a smirk, "So long as you don't cause trouble."

He smiles and moves to leave, but pauses once the elder has gone, "Oh, and Shiloh, I was very impressed with how you handled the circumstances leading to and after your split lip." My mouth falls into a little 'o' shape, and he smiles wider before he moves off.

"What was that about?" Soris says once Duncan is gone.

I shake myself of my surprise before looking at Soris, "The blighter was at the pit fight."

"'Pit fight'," he repeats. "Shiloh, what _were _you doing?"

"Nothing!" I say quickly, and too move away, "We should get ready."

* * *

I should have never suggested we get ready. I hate myself.

Well... at least the wedding dress is better than that green and grey monstrosity I was wearing earlier. It almost looks like I have a shape in this one. Very little shape, but still! It's solid white, no designs, with very pretty sleeves. I called a dress pretty! Something's wrong! Anyway, the sleeves start to drape at the elbows, and when I hold my arm out in front of me, the pointed end of the sleeve comes all the way to my waist. The rest is floor-length, and the top is cut to reveal just part of my shoulders. I feel oddly feminine. Did Shianni pick this out? I owe her a hug. The girls are currently braiding my hair into a looping 'milkmaid's' braid before they laden it with, guess what? More flowers! These are an assortment of various blue flowers, apparently to compliment my eyes.

"Are you excited for the ceremony?" Shianni giggles. Well, at least she's over what happened with Vaughan.

I shrug, and that earns "hey!" from Veranya who's currently tying a white ribbon to the back of the braid. "As ready as I'll ever be."

She frowns, "I don't know why you're not more happy. Uncle Cyrion went to a lot of work to find you Nelaros."

"That's the thing," I fold my hands together in my lap. "I'm to marry a man I've met _a single time, _and then I'm expected to sit at home and play the part of a good wife. It doesn't sound very peachy to me."

"What," she huffs, "you would rather fight for coin forever? These marriages are what we do."

"Our neighbors weren't arranged, and you see how happy they are." Why does she think I'd be giddy with joy for this? I'm only doing it for Father.

"And your parents were, and you've seen how happy they were." Why does she have to make sense? That's just mean.

"Whatever, Shianni. I'm doing it, okay? You see me? Flowers! Everywhere!" There. That makes her smile. Good. Happy Shianni equates happy Shiloh. Remember that people. Favorite cousin.

After my hair is done, my friends get to work adorning their heads with simple daisy-chain crowns, and white ribbon belts around their lavender-colored dresses. What is with lavender today? I don't think I've ever encountered the live plant before. Huh.

We head outside Nola's home to see Soris leaning nervously against the door-frame, we walk together as a group to the simple wooden platform near the vhenadahl tree that was prepared for our use today. There's small baskets of flowers along the sides of the platform, and candles lit on plain metal saucers despite it being daylight for decoration. Valora and Nelaros are already there. Nelaros in a heavily embroidered blue vest over a crisp white tunic, and brown leather breeches. He cleans up pretty good. I'm impressed. I still hate that his presence requires dresses, but not after today! I can't wait to change into my hose! It's enough to bring a small smile to my face, and Nelaros thinks I'm smiling at him, because I was looking in his direction at the time. Ah. Well what can you do? If it makes him stop bouncing on his toes nervously, then I guess it's fine.

We step up onto the platform, and our crowd of guests starts to gather. Where's Valora's bridesmaids? Does she not have any friends? Aw. Well that's sad. Poor thing's voice drives everyone away. She can't really help that though. Eh. Oh! Duncan's there, how nice. I give him and my Father a small wave, as they're chatting amiably with each other just to the side of the platform. Apparently Father knows the man. It doesn't really surprise me, but father's not one for fighting and has never helped the Grey Wardens as Mother. You know, now that I think about it, Duncan may be the _only _non-jackass human I know. That's worthy of a medal.

Humans treat elves pretty poorly. Surprising, right? You could never tell from today's events. Not. At. All. Sodding Void, but Messere shit-breath thinks he owns the place because his father is the Arl of Denerim. Him and his cronies have been known to been seen around the time that a girl goes missing from the streets, or when one is found dead in the gutter. It's rather fucked-up, but the women and girls around here know not to go out at night, or risk harm. No guard will help us. No human noble cares. That's why Mamae insisted to my father that I learn how to protect myself at thirteen. With some of the jackasses tastes, I should've learned at ten to be certain of my safety. I still go out at night. It's how I make my coin. Not what you think! Pit fights, remember? Oh, I feel so... _alive_ when I knock the teeth out of some smelly pirate shem's mouth. The thought makes me excited.

"Shiloh," Soris elbows me in the side. Hmm? My wedding! How did I forget?

The Chantry priest is already talking. Seriously, how did I miss the beginning of the ceremony?

Soris suddenly points forward and draws the attention of the Chantry priest.

Vaughan! The whack to the back of his arse-face wasn't enough to keep him away?

"Milord? Your arrival is rather... unexpected," says the Mother as she turns around on the podium, hands limp at her sides with her surprise.

I look briefly at my wedding party and guests. Duncan's face is rather impassive, Father looks very confused, Valendrian's brow is furrowed, and two of my three bridesmaids look ready to run. Guess which one wishes she had another bottle?

In addition to his regular cronies, Vaughan also went to the liberty of bringing a few of his father's guards. I guess he's really paranoid he's going to end up unconscious again. And why is he here anyway? What is he trying this time?

"I apologize for the interruption, Mother, but I'm in need of a few female guests for a party I'll be having." He laughs as he walks onto the platform and kicks one of the baskets of flowers. The flaming sod better not be doing what I think he's doing, or he's going to finally get that punch in the mouth he's been deserving.

The Mother crosses her arms angrily, "This is a wedding, Milord."

He gets into the Mother's face spitting words about how we elves are pets, and this isn't a proper wedding. I look to Father, Duncan, and Valendrian, but all three older men are just standing there. Why hasn't Duncan said something at least? Mother always spoke highly of his courage and nobility. Fine. I guess it's up to me to put the donkey in his place. Maybe if I do something, the others will help too. He wants violence? He wants a 'party', well, he'll be getting something similar, but not quite.

As he starts pointing to my bridesmaids like fruit in the market, I look briefly at the older men again, and catch Duncan's eye. There's some sort of expression he's hiding behind his mask. I start to move behind the wretched nobleman, and Soris sends a panicked expression my way. Words won't cut it this time, sorry cousin. I get behind the arse-face and look to see what is best to do. I quickly make up my mind, however, and kick him as hard as I can in the back of his knee. If I can get him down to my level, I can restrain him enough that the Mother can send for _real _guards. The shems will listen to her.

He goes down with an exaggerated grunt, and I leap towards his frame grabbing for his arms as he tries to angrily push himself up with his hands. "Go for help!" I yell out to no one in particular. I may want to knock his teeth out for trying what he's trying, but I have enough sense to know the only way I _won't _get in trouble, is if the Revered Mother goes for help. Or Duncan. They'll listen to him too. And why is no one else moving? I said 'help', you know!

I never even see the rogue-trained guard that blindsides me.

* * *

"Maker help us. Oh Maker, please protect us."

When I come to I hear Nola's soft voice praying through the thrum in my ears. Maker does my head hurt. "What the Void just happened?"

"You're awake!" I see Shianni's wide, worried gaze come into my line of sight. She wordlessly helps me into a sitting position. "We're trapped in here," she continues. "There's no way out."

I quickly look around at my surroundings. Big stone room with rather expensive looking paintings on the walls. Vaughan captured us. Just sodding great.

My attention is drawn towards the door as I, along with the other women, start to hear the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Lots of heavy footsteps. "Don't do anything until I say so," I whisper to my friends as I move to stand up.

A whole crap load of guards come through the door. All armed and armored, and not at all vulnerable like Vaughan. This is a load of mabari shit! No way we can take them! Especially as only myself and Shianni have any sort of combat training. And we have no fucking weapons. I wish I was roguishly inclined enough to stuff a knife in my boots. My Mother's boots. Too bad she wasn't roguishly inclined either. The guards break off into groups of two, and grab a hold of Nola, Veranya, Valora, and Shianni. All the while saying how they're going to have a bit of 'fun' at Vaughan's say so. The girls are taken out of the room before I have time to think of something, if anything at all. There's really not much I can do right now. I do _not _like this feeling.

The last two guards start towards me, and I can't help but snarl at them. I was horribly outnumbered before, but with just the two of them, in this big ol' room, I have the opportunity to seriously maim them. "Come any closer, and I'll pull out your eyes!" Oh, yeah, I pit fight for my own entertainment and a bit of coin, remember? I've fought barehanded more than once. I'm confident I can take the two of them down.

One laughs at me. Flaming dress and flowers. "The others said this one's a fighter! Ha! Good. I like them with a little spunk."

Oh, am I growling? I do think I am. I'm not just going to knock their teeth out, I'm going to make them choke on their own blood. They've pissed off the wrong bride. It's my wedding day, dammit!

Someone clears their throat behind them, and I strain on the tips of my toes to see. It's Soris! With swords! Oh, he's now tied with Shianni for 'favorite cousin'. He slides one towards me right between the guards' feet, as they're too busy laughing over seeing an elf with a weapon. I'll show them how an elf wields a sword!

It's not a greatsword, shortsword actually, but it does the job. I'm so angry that I'm buzzing with energy. This whole situation is majorly pissing me off. When I slice open the throat of the one closest to me as he's still shaking with laughter, I feel a refreshing sense of satisfaction wash over me. It's not enough however, and as the second one is fumbling to pull the scabbard of his sword (some guard he is), I savagely thrust the sword I'm using in and up through his weakly armored armpit. He screams out in pain and stumbles to the ground. I push the sword through, not across, his throat with enough force that I cut through his vertebrae with a lovely crunching sound. His head falls into an odd position due to the lack of support, as his now lifeless body slumps to the ground in a growing pool of his own blood.

I'm raging now, I know I am. It's the same feeling that comes over me during a pit fight. Pure adrenaline, sweet violence, and satisfaction of giving someone what they deserve. Only now it's intensified. I feel giddy, yet angry enough I wish I had the capability to bring the guards back to life just so I could kill them again. And I just killed them. The first men I have actually killed. Pit fights go until the first knock out. It's not til the death, per say, but people can die from injuries they've sustained later as they fester and clot. I'm not sure how I feel about this... killing. I look to the blood pooling around my soft leather boots and the white hem of my dress with thoughts traveling through my mind that I can make no sense of.

"Shiloh?" Soris questions to me, and I see him take a step back from me in shock, and perhaps fear when I look towards him. I look down at myself, and feel my face smoothing. How long was I snarling? My wedding dress is coated in dirt and dust, and now blood. Those lovely sleeves are splattered with it. My hem is soaked.

I frown before I look to Soris. "What is it cousin?"

"Where are the others?" He asks quietly.

I shake my head and step towards him, towards the door. "The guards took them to Vaughan. We need to get them back."

He nods and follows me out the door, "Nelaros is waiting down the hall for us. He's keeping watch."

* * *

We walk down the hall silently. No time for sarcasm. No time for quips or jokes. The women need us, and we need to get them away from that pig. We come to the last door. Plain with metal rivets. Unassuming. When I open it, I'm fighting the urge to vomit when I see the beheaded body of my almost-husband and three shem guards snickering over his corpse. I'm charging at them with my sword at the ready before I even consciously realize what I'm doing.

Anger floods my veins, and I see red as I move to attack them. The first guard manages to throw a punch to my face during that lull where my mind had yet to realize what my body's doing. I retaliate with a sharp kick to his ankle and an immediate swipe with my sword just under his shoulder guard. I can faintly recognize the clashing of steel behind me, indicative of Soris engaging one of the other guards. I'd forgotten about the third guard until I felt the sharp coldness of his blade slicing into my back. He manages to knick me on the hip before I can fully turn around to keep both guardsmen in my sights. I'm outnumbered, my back is stinging, yet I can hardly feel it, but this time I have a weapon.

The one I was engaging in only has a longsword in hand, and he's weaker than the dual-wielder. I decide to go for him first while keeping the other still within range. I jab the shortsword into the less protected inside of his leg, and I see the rogue make to go behind me. I spin around as quick as I can, and manage to strike the rogue on his dominant forearm with strength enough to cause him to drop his weapon as his arm starts gushing blood. The guard that I had abandoned to engage the other, lashes out and manages to get a large slash at the middle of my back. I ignore him for the moment, and lunge for the dropped dagger. I am no dual-wielder, but these two soldiers are turning out to be more able than I thought. Much more than the two whose lives I had just ended. I gather the dagger in hand, and use the momentum I had gained from my lunge to drive the blade through the thinner leather armor of the rogue's ribs. He howls in pain and drops to a knee, only to be killed by his own dagger as I slice open his throat. I look up to see the other guardsman look on to me with obvious fear, as he shakily grips his sword even tighter.

"Are you afraid of an elf with a weapon?!" I shout at him. I don't give him an opportunity to answer, as I dash forward and impale him with both blades through his stomach. The strength I have from wielding Holly allows me to cut through the gaps in his splitmail far more easily than it would've for any rogue. The only real differences between my fighting preferences and a rogue's are my lack of impressive speed and grace. I do not backstab and dance. I charge head-on, heedless of their weapons most times. Mamae had told me that elven warriors have a bit more grace then their human versions, and perhaps that is true. I apparently move quicker than these shem.

As I pull my blades free, I turn to see Soris execute his own opponent with a well placed jab at the chest. With all the guards down, I feel some of my energy start to ebb away. I look to Nelaros' body and don't feel my anger lessen at all. I walk over towards his body, and tightly close my eyes and my hands clench around my weapons.

"He died trying to protect you." Oh, I know Soris... And the sodding Blighters that did it paid for it with their lives. I hardly knew him, but he didn't deserve to die. He seemed nice enough. No one deserves to die for being brave. The brave ones are supposed to live, right? I open my eyes, and catch sight of a glint of metal sticking out from the pocket on his vest. I bend over to pick it up with my dagger hand, and see that it's a wedding band – my wedding band. I stare at the simple metal for a moment before I put it on the finger opposite of where it would've gone if our wedding was not interrupted. I may not have wanted the wedding, heck I wanted to run away, but I won't now. The others still need me, and as I look to Soris I know he feels the same. They needs us, and we will save them from these bastards.

As I've yet to say anything, Soris walks over and puts a hand on my shoulder. "You're bleeding." I look over my shoulder and see that he's right. It stings much worse than Shianni's poke at my split lip earlier. I've had worse at the pits, however, and am not too concerned about it. Soris seems to be, as he walks over to the body of his slain opponent and removes a reddish jar from a pocket on the shem's belt. "Let me put some of this on it."

* * *

After Soris applies the very itchy elfroot poultice to my wounds, and his; we go out of the opposite door, to see another door a little further down the way partially open. I venture to get close enough just to peer in, and see an armory of sorts with two shem guards within. I'd love to get my hands on a greatsword. I feel... odd, awkward, holding the shortsword and dagger. I'd fare much better with a familiar weapon in my hands.

I nod towards the door, but Soris shakes his head. Apparently he's okay with just the long dagger in his hands. Well, I'm not. Too bad for him. I'm getting a greatsword.

I kick open the door, and use the element of surprise to my advantage as I scream, "Die you flaming shem!" and charge at the nearest guard. He manages to get me pretty good on my sides a few times, before I can hurt him enough to make his stumble, so I can end him. I have to help Soris with his opponent after. The man was a shield user, and that's a bit difficult to fight with our limited weapons. But our weapons aren't limited anymore!

After Soris and I tend to our wounds, I throw my weapons to the ground with a clatter, and pick up a large, gleaming greatsword. It's a little longer and broader than Holly, but it'll do. Soris helps himself to a round, reinforced shield (his preferred form of fighting) and quickly buckles it to his arm. He had learned his own soldiery from his father before he passed too. I assume that Soris left his weapons behind during our last practice, and that's why he was previously shieldless.

"Aren't you going to get a sword?" I ask him, and he shakes his head.

"The dagger is Duncan's, and I promised I'd give it back." Duncan? He won't help us when I ask for help, or help us in person, but he'll give Soris one of his daggers? Whatever. I don't have time to think about it.

"Let's go then," I say as I walk for the door.

"Hey! What about armor?" Soris asks as he rushes to my side. He doesn't bother to stop, but continues to follow as I head out the door.

"It's all made for shems," I answer. "And we have wasted enough time."

* * *

As we continue down the hall, I realize that we have no idea where Vaughan's room is. I see a young, maybe twelve years old, elven maid cowering in a corner as we continue to walk down the hall. I try to school my features as best I can before I approach her.

"Excuse me," I say as softly as I can manage at the moment. The girl whimpers. "Do you know where the noble Vaughan's room is?" She shakes her head quickly. She's quite frightened, and not only because of the appearance of Soris and myself. When I said the arse-face's name she curled her arms tighter around herself and nearly came to tears. That bastard. "He took my friends," I whisper. "I only want to get them back. Please. I need to know where his room is."

She looks at me with wide, frightened, and glistening eyes, and nods her head once before she points down the hall. "T-turn down the left at the end. H-h-his room is the last o-one on the right."

"Thank you," I say and give her what I hope is a small smile, and not some horrid angry snarl.

As Soris and I take the left-handed turn, we come to see four well armored men with an assortment of weapons. Two with longswords and shields, one dual-wielder with a long and short dagger, and a fellow greatsword warrior. They notice us right away. Our blood-soaked clothing, hair askew, and weapons held firmly in our hands. I straighten to my full height and hold the unfamiliar greatsword firmly in front of me in my favored battle-stance.

"Who wants to die first?!" I challenge.

One of the shield users smiles leeringly, and announces, "I'll take the pretty one lads." My face pinches, and I loose a threatening growl from deep in my throat. Anger starts to course through me, but I temper it and my desire to beat his face in, as I let him charge. I have a few surprises up my sleeves, after all. I see Soris pair up with the greatsword user as the leerer gets within my range. I can't focus on my cousin, as I hold my ground in front of the shem's charge. At the last moment, I sidestep his crouched charge and swing my blade around to hit him hard in between the shoulders with it's pommel. He stumbles forward, and I don't lose a beat as I swing the blade around as I twist my hips to follow through with the movement, sending the blade to cut deeply into his back. He cries out in pain, and stumbles forward. I don't give him a moment to regain himself, as I pull my blade back, straighten, and thrust it forward with enough force to pierce his chainmail and cause him to land on his front seconds from death, as I remove my blade from his cavity.

The other shield user charged at me during my last thrust, and once my blade's free, I don't have enough time to avoid his shield. The hit is strong enough to cause me to land hard on my face and chest, my greatsword skittering away from me as I fell from the hit to my back. He drops his sword and put a knee to my back, the metal of his greaves digging into my already injured and cut skin, irritating the injuries and crushing my spine. He wraps one metal-clad hand around the front of my neck, and he bends down to hiss into my ear pulling my head up painfully all the while, "You're going to regret that whore!" His hand starts to squeeze, as he tries to crush my throat, and I bend my arms backwards to futilely grasp at his arm. There's nothing I can really do in this position. This shem's heavy enough to keep me pinned, and I'm weaponless. I can't breathe.

I suddenly hear a gasp and loud gurgle, then running footsteps in my direction. Something has hit the shem on top of me with enough force to send him sprawling away. I turn my head to see Soris bent over the guard and cut into his throat nearly severing his head. One of my hands flies to my throat, and I sputter a choked breath as I scramble to gather my greatsword. The dual-wielding rogue is still alive, and I've yet to see him or hear of him.

"One left," I rasp out to Soris. He nods and pulls his shield up protectively, Duncan's long dagger at the ready. I move to stand with my back to his, and we're both tense, our eyes searching the shadows of the hall. I see a glint of steel to my left, and nod subtly to Soris in that direction. He bends his head slightly in acknowledgement, and we move as one to that shadow. The rogue is no match for the two of us.

* * *

I didn't give Soris the chance to fully tend to our wounds, as a tied cloth and rough smearing of health poultices was all I had patience for – the women are just through that door. They need us. _Now_.

I slam open the door to see Vaughan and his two cronies from earlier with swords, daggers, and shields drawn. Apparently they heard the battle out in the hall. Well, it seems that they _do _have some sort of intelligence, if they deem it important to arm themselves.

My gaze is drawn away from them, when I hear a muffled whimper coming from the bed. There's... Maker! I don't even know how to describe it. Shianni... It's Shianni! Those fucking bastards born of mabari shit! If I thought I was angry before, this is a whole new level of pissed off. Blind rage clouds my vision, and my hands tighten around my sword so hard, it hurts. But I don't care, the pain of my hands or my other injuries are nothing, _nothing _compared to the pain I want to inflict on these... _shems. _These human men that hurt elves for sport. These arseholes who think their race gives them superiority. I cannot... cannot contain myself. They must _die_.

Vaughan was talking the entire time, but I was not listening. I give them no warning when I charge, sword drawn back in preparation for a strike. I cut deeply into Vaughan's shoulder, he screams out in a horrid cry, and I grin. By Andraste, the satisfaction only fuels my rage. I wildly thrust the blade into his throat beheading him, and without care for the other two armed men right beside me. My flank is open, I'm exposed, but I don't pay it any heed.

One manages to retaliate by cutting deep, so deep it scrapes bone, into my right side. I scream out in anger, not pain, and thrust my blade out forward into his stomach, not caring that his dagger has sliced across my hip and side. The blood pooling and further staining my once while wedding gown.

I remove the blade by kicking his body off of it and pulling backwards, and spin to see Soris knock the last man in the side of the head with his shield. The human stumbles, but does not fall. I run over, sword held low, and cut deeply into the shem's knee. He falls back with the force and injury, now one legged and bleeding on the floor. Soris grants him mercy by piercing his unarmored heart and quickly ending his sodding life.

I'm panting, fingers continually readjusting their grip, and head swimming with adrenaline and rage. They're all dead. Dead as dead can be. Why am I still so pissed I want to scream?!

My sensitive elven ears pick up the sound of an even softer whimper, and I freeze. "Shi-Shianni?" I whisper. Oh Maker she's hurt. I drop the greatsword, and rush over to the bed. She's bare, not a single article of clothing on her, curled into a tight ball and covered in blood. Her own blood. I reach out to softly touch her shoulder, Soris coming to stand beside me, and she whimpers again as she pushes herself away from my touch with her feet, her legs moving to reveal the source of her injury. They... they raped her. I hear Soris suck in a sharp breath between his teeth, and after a short moment, he leans close to me to whisper,

"I'm going to find the others."

I nod to him, but keep my eyes focused on my favorite cousin. The closest person I've ever had to a sister. A continual source of my happiness. Bruised, battered, and hurt in the worst way a woman could be hurt by a man. A girl of only seventeen.

I feel tears well at the corners of my eyes, and I _never _cry. "Shianni?" I try again, still whispering. "I-it's Shiloh. Can... can you hear me?"

Her eyes flutter open, and it takes her golden gaze a moment to focus on my face. "Cousin?"

"Yeah, I'm here." I touch her shoulder again, and she doesn't recoil. "Can you move? We have to leave."

Her hands tighten where they're wrapped around her arms, but she nods. I quickly pull a sheet around her slim form, and easily lift her into my arms. She weighs just about as much as Holly. One of her arms wraps around my neck, and she buries her face into my shoulder. Soris emerges just moments later with Veranya, Nola, and Valora in tow. Valora goes to open her mouth to say something, but I glare at her and shake my head. She quickly closes her mouth with an audible _snap_.

We go outside into the side hall, then into the main, and I see the young elven maid again. Her eyes are still wide and fearful, but she comes up to me and wraps a hand around my elbow just before she says softly, "I'll take you to the servant's entrance. You can leave from there."

* * *

We had taken the back alleys and filth strewn streets back to the alienage and back to home. Valora helps tend to my wounds, as Veranya and Nola tend to Shianni. Soris insisted that he'd see to his own wounds, and afterwards he left to go find Father, wherever he had gone to.

Soris and Father come through the door with stern, troubled faces. I'm no longer in my wedding dress, in my preferred hose and tunic, flowers long gone from my hair, and standing with my arms crossed against my chest, Holly not too far away from my reach.

"There's guards," Soris says. "They're looking for those who killed Vaughan."

I frown and pat Holly before I walk towards them. I had already thought of this. And I started this, didn't I? If I had not attacked Vaughan then maybe we wouldn't have all been taken. Maybe Nelaros would still be alive, and maybe Shianni wouldn't have been hurt. Isn't that some shit? If I had handled myself better, maybe none of this wouldn't have happened. Maybe I wouldn't have been such an influence on poor Shianni, and she wouldn't have bottled Vaughan. There's a lot of possibilities, but the common denominator is me. _I'm _responsible.

"I'll turn myself in. Soris, you stay here."

"What?!" My father exclaims. "You can't do this, child -"

I cut him off by saying, "No!" Quieter I continue, "I can adda. And I will." I hold up the hand with my intended's wedding band, "I'm not a child anymore. And I won't see anyone else hurt."

I brush past him and head for the door, "Shiloh! They'll kill you!"

I look over my shoulder, hand on the door, "I know Father. I-I'm sorry."

The alienage is practically abandoned, and before I know it, I'm at the gates in front of the guardsmen and the elder. I hold my head high, resigned to my fate as I am, and announce, "I killed Vaughan!"

The lead guard looks at me quizzically and says, "I'm supposed to believe a single elven woman is responsible for that slaughter?"

I nod, "I beheaded that sodding bastard myself!"

The guardsman rubs at his brow, "You know his death, it only stands to reason that you're involved. As for working alone, I don't believe it, but I have no evidence to the contrary." He motions to another of the guards, "Lock the elf in irons."

"Pardon, but if I may," I look towards the new voice and am surprised to see Duncan approach.

"I'm sorry," the guardsman says, "But this isn't Grey Warden business."

Duncan nods, "However true that may be, but I still invoke the Right of Conscription on this woman."

"You can't do this."

Duncan steps forward, "It is well within my right, and you know it to be true, good Ser."

The guardsman frowns and looks between me and him, his disgust of the situation quite apparent. "Fine. Just get this elf out of my city by nightfall."

As the guards leave, Duncan turns to look at me. My face must show my utter surprise, because Duncan can't help but smile. I ask him in a small voice, "You'll... you'll let me join the Wardens?"

He nods his head low, "I owe your family no less then to save my good friend's daughter from certain death. Both your bravery and fighting prowess will benefit my ranks, of that I am certain."

My eyes start to well up with tears again. I thought I was going to die. I was ready to die. "T-thank you," I say in a quiet voice. "Can I say goodbye to my family?"

He nods again, "Of course. And gather your things. I'll be here when you're ready to start on your journey."

* * *

I rush home, tears flowing freely down my face, and push open the door to come face-to-face with the startled face of my father. I throw my arms around him, "Duncan conscripted me! I'm going to be a Grey Warden! I'm not going to be hanged!"

After explaining what happened after I left my home, the girls offer to gather my things into a pack, and Soris helps me buckle my mother's chainmail armor to my body. She had two sets of armor, but the second was lost when she was slain. Father offers to help put Holly on my back, all the while grumbling how heavy the sword is. I hug him and kiss him on the cheek. I don't care if I'm acting like a sodding fool.

My happiness quickly sobers when I enter my shared room with Shianni, and see the girl laying still in her bed. All feelings of relief and bliss quickly vanish, when the image of her bared body comes to my mind's eye. My anger returns, but I hold it in as I approach her.

"Shianni," I wrap my hand around her arm. "I'm leaving with Duncan to be a Grey Warden. I wanted to tell you before I left, that I'm sorry." I bend down to softly kiss her cheek.

She turns her head to look at me, "You have nothing to be sorry for, Shiloh. You saved me." I'd have to disagree that I have nothing to be sorry for, but I see her point. I nod to her with a small wave of goodbye before I leave the room.

Duncan was waiting by the gates, like he had said. "Are you ready Shiloh Tabris, to take your place in the never ending war against the darkspawn?" I nod, and Duncan accepts that. I wonder if I'll ever see my family again, and I wonder if I'll ever see my favorite cousin smile again...


	3. (Apollo Wings) The Healer

Author note: Isn't Musicalrain just awesome? I can already seeing William and Shiloh getting on like a house on fire after the 'shem' and awkwardness phase is over.

Did I ever mention that as much as any author denies it - 1st person characters are basically extensions or parts of themselves? William is me, in a male, mage sort of way. However - he swears much less than I do. I'm sorry - I have a filthy mouth. However, he has my bleeding heart. Poor William!

* * *

**William Amell **

I think, after much consideration. I am a delicate mage flower. Gregor has mentioned it a few times. Namely when I couldn't set up my own tent or dig a latrine. I soon showed him I could walk and write in my journal at the same time - without tripping mind you. Just a skill I have from learning to dodge the shorter apprentices during the rush period before lunch. That mildly impressed the warrior from the Anderfels. Then he said it wasn't much of a skill when you're in snow up to your shoulders and trying to dig your way to the nearest place to get food. I'm glad I never grew up in that northern country. I'm not strong enough to shovel snow. Or able to melt it.

"Maker boy. You're a skinny runt aren't you?" Gregor was sitting by the fire he'd made - grumbling all the while because I couldn't just light it for him. "Tall mind you - bloody tall. Nearly as tall as me." That was true. I was just a few inches shy of his towering bulk.

"I'm a delicate mage flower." I smirked, repeating his jab at me that he'd been repeating pretty much all day. "Of course I'm thin. I lived almost exclusively on tatties and vegetables. They don't want to waste good meat on feeding a mage eh?"

"And bloody pale. Ever been in the sun?" He continued, reaching into his enormous pack and pulling out two brown glass bottles, chucking one on my lap. "Drink that. It'll put some hairs on that weedy chest of yours."

"Is it poisonous?" I rolled the bottle between my fingers. "Are you trying to kill me before I even fight these darkspawn?"

"Ha!" Gregor pulled the cork of his own bottle out with his teeth and the liquid inside glugged as it slipped down his throat. His wasn't poison then. I yanked the cork from my own bottle with a bit of difficulty and peered inside, closing one eye to try and discern what the liquid actually was. "It ain't gonna bite you flower boy."

"I'm just trying to see what it is." I sniffed before bringing the bottle to my lips and taking a draw on the drink. Maker! I felt my eyes watering as I swallowed the burning liquid and I coughed when I was able. It was like liquid fire! "What in the Maker's good name is that!" I rasped, feeling the burn turn dry with the addition of air through my throat.

"Whiskey boy. Makes a man outta wimpy lads like you."

"Aye... I'm sure it does. But does it have to hurt like Andraste's pyre itself?" I looked at the bottle in my hands as if it contained the poison I'd thought it had. Gregor was shaking with laughter.

"You're alright boy. Soft. But you'll make a fine Warden when we get you dirty." He wiped a tear from his eye and took another swig off the bottle in his hands.

"I'm dirty!" I couldn't believe I just said that. I felt the warmth cover my tattooed cheeks all the up to my hairline and took a gulp of the whiskey I'd been given to cover part of my blush.

"You're wet behind the ears aren't you!" Gregor roared, a smile spreading over his bushy face. "The gangly mage hasn't-"

"I have." I bit my lip. Flora. My only female friend had taken my _purity_ long ago. She didn't want to be virginal any more that I had wanted to be. So... it happened. It wasn't a fond memory, it was rushed in a templar free corner and we kept our friendship purely that afterwards but she was my first. And... my only. She taught me how to, how to put it, please another person.

"Well colour me shocked and call me Doris! Who was he?" He laughed.

"Oh ha ha ha. That a jab at my sexuality too?" I peered over the rim of my bottle and took another fiery gulp. It was going down easier now I knew what was in it and the exact effects of it. That or I'd somehow grown thick scales down my throat to go against the burn.

"I guessed you were a queer one." Gregor smiled, a glint in his eyes. Yes - because all mages are gay. I suddenly feel rather ashamed I'd jabbed at Jowan with this sort of thing. Then again - he's betrayed me. I don't really care about him any more. Do I? "That beard of yours is a dead giveaway."

"My beard? I know it's not a tangled scarf like yours but I like it!" I gave my goatee styled facial fuzz a stroke as if it had been hurt by being called a sign of homosexuality.

"So you are-"

"Hardly. I happen to find women rather attractive." I pursed my lips. Gregor was easy to talk to, the mountain of a man was so different from most of the other men I'd ever known. But then again - I knew Irving, Anders, Jowan and a horde of apprentices and templars. I didn't have much experience of people.

"You keep telling yourself that. So what was he like? All knees and elbows like you or a tub of lard?" Gregor was rifling through his pack at this point and pulled out a oily package filled with meat jerky, he passed a handful over but kept the rest to himself, ripping off huge chunks and seemingly swallowing it whole.

"My knees and elbows happen to be adorned in tattoos. Just like my face." I lifted the hem of my robes to prove my point and pushed up my sleeves. "But SHE was rather beautiful. Dark skinned, rather slight, short black hair. She was tattooed too. Everywhere, swirling patterns."

"She give you those pansy marks then?" Gregor smirked. "These are real tattoos boy." He then stood up and pulled his tunic up over his head, displaying a back covered in thick tribal markings that reached down his arms and most probably went further down.

"I did my knees myself. Flora did my shoulders, elbows and face though." I fingered the rough dry meat and chewed one of them until it finally gave. Argh. It was so salty! Is all meat like this? I swear I remember chicken being much less of a salt explosion. I took another swig of the whiskey just to wash the salt away. Why is my head swimming? I haven't drunk that much of this burning stuff have I?

"Pansy. Anyway - finish up your food. We got a big day of traveling before we get to Ostagar." Gregor wiped his britches down of the crumbs he'd made from eating and finished his bottle of whiskey before chucking a bedroll at me. I shook my head and retreated into my tent he'd put up for me. My first night out of the tower, my only companion taking the constant piss out of me and I couldn't even fend for myself if I tried.

I would be a dead man anyway if not for Duncan's intervention. I re-corked the bottle of whiskey and fell into a deep, surprisingly warm sleep for being outside. My dreams turned to my life as I'd known it so far. I wonder just how much it's going to change?

* * *

It took a three days to get us to Ostagar with the punishing pace Gregor set. I'd never been so thankful for Spirit Healing my entire life. My feet were swathed in bandages and bloody with blisters where I hadn't been able to heal quick enough to prevent it. It was difficult to maintain when the skin kept to tearing. I thought walking all the way up the tower was terrible. My legs were sore from the extended exercise and I'm sure we haven't actually encountered any darkspawn yet. Wolves - yes. That was an interesting fight. Gregor was up at the front, his axe clear knocking the wolves apart in bloody swipes and myself trying my best to gather the elements of lightning and earth to aid him and not hit him. As I said - interesting. It was a play in motion of mage and warrior. As it turned out. Gregor was what is know as a berserker, a dwarven technique that as a human made him an Ash Warrior. Apparently, they usually fought alongside their hounds, mabaris. He'd lost his mabari down in the deep roads a few months back. But he didn't even flinch when I pulled off his heavy silverite plate to heal the gouging wound that had been made by a dent.

"Well here we are boy. I leave you here." Gregor stood at the mouth of the army encampment. "There's a junior Warden in this mess called Alistair. He'll look after you."

"Any other recruits or is it just me and whoever Duncan went looking for?" I stared at the carnival of colored tents and men and women alike walking around in heavy armour and leathers.

"Two blokes. Don't know their names. Hopefully I will soon enough." He shrugged. "They should be easy enough to find. Just ask for the Grey Warden recruits and someone is sure to know them." Right... I wonder what they're like. Fingers crossed they were friendly. So far I can assume the Grey Wardens are - Gregor and Duncan both seemed rather jovial. Maybe the other two recruits would be? One can but hope.

I wandered down the bridge into the encampment, the new smells of charring meat on spits and argh... dog shit... clouding my senses, the flags and banners fluttering in the winds and the whole place was humming with life. I noticed a man slouched against a pillar and thought I'd try my best to make myself efficient at least. I'd hunt down these other recruits and maybe get to know who they are before the other mystery recruit turned up with Duncan.

"Excuse me. Would you know where the Grey Warden recruits are based?" That was polite, concise... it was a good question. The man turned round, he was broad shouldered and rather tall - like myself in that respect - maybe only just shorter than me. I'm surrounded by people who are more my height! I'd never thought that would happen! I quashed down the weird feeling in me to hug this random man just for being tall and waited for him to answer.

"I think I saw one who was claiming to be a recruit over by the Revered Mother." He looked me up and down. "But I don't guess you'd want to be over by the Chantry folk would you?"

"Excuse me?" This man knew I was a mage just by looking at me? What was he? A proto-templar? "I've been around the Chantry most of my life. I'm sure I can adapt." That was fairly true, it could be said the Circles I'd been in were Chantry institutions.

"Fair enough - it was just a warning. You don't see many men in dresses round here who aren't mages. And there aren't a lot of you." That was fairly true... wait. Dresses!

"These are robes!" My mouth hung open when the man laughed and simply shook his head. "What's so bloody funny?"

"Your accent! You sound too funny when you get angry. I'd keep a lid on it or no-one'll take you seriously." I pursed my lips to halt the comment rising out that I could hardly understand some of the thick Ferelden accents. West Hills was a rather difficult one for me. There was an apprentice called Peter from West Hills who I had to ask to repeat himself about three times before I could understand him when I first came to this country. He was transferred to White Spire about a year ago. Shame, I'd sort of liked him. Not enough to call him a friend but he knew my name.

"I best not get angry then." I managed to quip. "Which way is this Revered Mother then?"

"Turn left up ahead, follow the signs to the infirmary. She's set up next to it to offer prayers for the wounded and dead." He shrugged. "What they need is a mage to heal them before they die."

"Is that my cue to run over and heal then?" I groaned. "Thanks for the heads up about the state of things. If they've resorted to prayers..." I shuddered. That meant the mages here were either dead, exhausted of mana or not being allowed to use their powers outside of combat. Or likely - the last two.

"Yeah. The bloke was rather bulky. Balding. Should still be there!" He called as I hurried off. Hopefully I'd be able to use my status as a Grey Warden recruit to help the wounded here. I'm such a bleeding heart. I hate healing - what possessed me to start offering my services in a way?

* * *

I managed to find the infirmary and the subsequent Revered Mother quite easily - the line of injured soldiers was a dead giveaway. I could almost feel their wounds and their pain radiating outwards. The King requested mages here right? Why aren't they being used to their proper advantage? I spied a nurse of some sorts, running around like an agitated bluebottle with bandages and water that was steaming hot. This was no good. These people need help. Dammit - I can feel myself volunteering. Oh look - I'm storming around the people.

"Who wants magical healing?" I called down the line, pulling up one of the empty crates that were by the cots, seating myself atop it and rolling up my sleeves. "I have magical healing here and trust me when I say there won't be anyone left here in pain when I'm finished!" The Revered Mother is looking at me as if I'll become an abomination within a heartbeat. I think the balls of steel I grew back in the Fade have become permanent. I'm not worried in the slightest by it.

"How much does it cost?" The nearest soldier to me asked. I furrowed my brow. Not only was this man willing to be put under magical influence - but he wanted to pay me for it? I thought everyone was taught 'magic is evil, it should serve man and never rule over him'? Chantry teachings obviously don't mean much to the man in pain.

"It's free. If anyone wants to gift a lyrium potion, thread or cloths to help keep the healing up then they're free to do so." I paused at the end and hurried over to the crates and pulled a few over, making a makeshift cot of sorts. "Who's first then?"

"Ah, I asked I suppose." The man who'd asked me my price answered, propping himself onto the 'cot' crates.

"Want me to just heal or ask what's wrong? I'm afraid my bedside manner might not be up to scratch." I pursed my lips and gave my beard a little itch. "I'll just heal. How does that sound?"

"Good - just hurry." He winced as he pulled the leathers on his shin up. If it were me I'd most probably have passed out. This man obviously had thick skin. The blood was congealing so he'd had this for a while at least too. The leathers were rather dirty and ragged, the skin underneath not faring much better than the leathers. In fact - I'd bet the leathers were actually in better nick. How did that happen? I summoned up a healing aura and pulled a cloth and health poultice out of my satchel. I'd had enough time when Gregor actually stopped walking to sleep that I could practice herbalism. I'd dare to say I'd improved on this particular potion, my others were still piss poor, but healing poultices - yeah, they were better now. Dabbing the cloth in the red cream-like poultice I started to wash the wound of the dirt and cleanse the little infection causing creatures from the weeping area.

When I was sure it was clean I got the catgut thread and needle out of my satchel and used a blue glowing hand to trace the edges of the wound to numb the area before I sewed the gash closed. A healer never leaves his tools of the trade behind. I can almost hear Wynne's lessons ringing in my ears and I'm almost thankful. Almost.

When I was finished the man thanked me and hobbled away, stating that he'd have bought me a lyrium potion even if he'd had to pay. Well that was nice. I pulled out a candle and match from my satchel, striking the match across the thinner stubble on my jawbone to light it and then light the candle to cleanse the needle clean under flame.

"Who's next?" There was a slight commotion before the next person was carried onto my makeshift healing area. Right... heal, speak later. This patient was a woman, probably in her early twenties and rather muscular underneath that heavy armour - and also covered in blood. How much of it her own I was unsure of. It hadn't stopped her from getting her head hit with something. I focused on her still bleeding head and pushed the short brown hair out of the way, using a different corner of my cloth to clean away the dirt as I probed the area with my magic.

"I need to go do something. Hurt her mage and I'll rip you into pieces." Wow. Protective much? The man who'd carried the woman in started to walk away, all the while glaring at me. Right, I suddenly feel like dirt.

Cleansing done, I started to numb and stitch her scalp back together. I was keeping a monitor on her heartbeat. With unconscious patients it was important to maintain a steady heartbeat and blood flow.

I finished up the stitches and wiped a bit more poultice over the wound as an ointment and pulsed a stronger burst of healing into her, forcing her to come back into the world of the living. The woman looked up at me from the crates and suddenly wrapped her blood covered arms around me. I was not used to this. People don't hug me often and within a week two women have... something is obviously different about me. "Thank you! I went down when I got a mace to the head and thought I was dead!"

"Anytime." I gently pushed her away. "Where is the man that brought you here? Short black hair, scowl."

"My brother? He brought me? Silly sod. I bet you he's all worried." The woman sighed. "Thank you again. Carver! Carver where the fuck are you?" Well... she was better at least.

"Take it careful!" I called to her retreating figure. "If you have any problems come back!"

"I can't, last time I was out of it he went and got a mabari tattoo!" I watched her almost run off, her shield and sword disappearing into the crowds. It was almost as soon as I'd managed to wipe clean my needle and properly cleanse it under my candle flame that the next injured soldier was put on my crate.

* * *

I'd been healing for three hours almost non-stop. I'd been gifted about twenty cloths, health poultices, lyrium potions and enough thread to wrap half the army up pretty tight. My mana is still a nice pool thanks to the lyrium, even if my head is swimming and throbbing with the after effects of so much of the blue potions so quickly. Isn't there a limit to how much you can take before getting light-headed? If so - I might be nearing it. That - or I just have that headache again.

Damn my own health - these people need help. The nurses of the infirmary were looking a lot less tired and rushed with the patients that I'd passed over to them too. If the injury wasn't worth the mana I'd need to use - I'd pass them over. Small gashes, abrasions and bruises - over to the nurses. Unconscious, large wounds, internal bleeding, even people drowning in their own blood who'd be dead without magic? They were mine. There were a lot of people and my line was finally starting to get down to a reasonable size.

"My my, if it isn't the apprentice who hates healing." I clenched my teeth together and focused on my healing until I had finished with the internal bleeding on this man's stomach before responding to the familiar voice. I sent the man away once I was done and put my hand up to bring the next one over, working automatically and sterilizing my instruments with one hand.

"Wynne. Why aren't you healing?" I spoke through gritted teeth. I hated to admit it - but the elderly schoolmarm was a better healer than myself. "These people need it."

"The mages were banned. They said leeches and hemsbane would suffice." She sniffed. I still hadn't turned to see her. Truth be told I didn't care to speak to her. She wasn't helping these people. Didn't she preach we should use our powers for good? Hypocrite.

"Damn banned. I've healed at least ten soldiers who I know would have died without magic." I really didn't need this distraction of Wynne. "Grab a crate and help or so help me I'll-"

"They sent me here to see if the mage working was one of my students." She interrupted. "They want you to stop."

"Who is they?" I glowered. I know who 'they' fucking well is. They've been trying to get me to stop for the past two hours at least. The only things stopping them were the tired nurses, thankful soldiers and my balls of steel. They're not stopping me until I have no more lyrium and mana. "Tell them I'm a Grey Warden recruit. I asked if I could do this with the person looking after me."

"You knew who I meant didn't you?" Wynne huffed. "Who is this person looking after you? Why aren't they here?"

"I don't know where. His name is Alistair." I used the only name of a Grey Warden I knew was in Ostagar. For all I knew - Gregor was heading back to Duncan with those unrelenting strides of his. Wynne said she'd go find him for me. Oh Maker's blood... I haven't actually met this Alistair yet. I hope he understands.

* * *

"William?" I looked up from cleaning my needle off. A man with short-ish sandy blond hair and decked in thick splintnail armour was standing over me. "Wynne came and found me. Said I was looking after this mage Grey Warden recruit. I played along before you say anything. I got stuck around her once a few days ago and got a lecture on the Fade. I have no idea why but I was bored out of my skull. Hopefully, I spared you worse."

"Aye you did. Do you think you could stand back? You're in the light." The man I assumed was Alistair stepped back. "I'm healing the wounded." I sniffed. "And I _am_ a Grey Warden recruit before you say anything. Duncan sent me here from Kinloch Hold with another Warden. Gregor. He left me here and told me to find you. I got waylaid."

"I can see that." He chuckled. "This one looks to be your last one though. When you're done we can talk."

"Sure. Just let me clean up after." I looked down at the glass flasks and bottles crowding around me. I'd used a lot. Since when did I volunteer to do this? I've done more healing today than I think I've done in my entire life. I'll never look at a bandage the same again. This was so tedious, repetitive... but I'm helping people. They aren't cowering in fear of magic, they're thanking me and being so kind!

"I'll do that now. We need to talk." Argh! Fine! "And don't get angry with me. I'm saving your skin here."

* * *

"So I could get the Grey Wardens into trouble for using my Maker given powers and saving lives?" I repeated the main gist of what Alistair had told me. That sounded like a load of bull. Did I mention saving lives? No?

"I know. And I can bet you you did save a good few lives. But we have to be careful. The Grey Wardens were only welcomed back into Ferelden twenty years ago. We're not the favourite people in this camp." Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. "Just be careful."

"Aye, I know. Maybe by helping we can be slightly more popular? If we don't share our resources - like myself - then we can only looked on badly." I was trying to remember a lesson long ago. A history lesson - one of the few things the Chantry condoned of mages to learn other than approved magic. Why was it Grey Wardens weren't in Ferelden? For the life of me I can't remember. But my logic was sound right? "I can't see what's wrong with helping people."

"Personally - I can't either. But I'm sure you're aware of the typical view people have on magic. There's a reason the Grey Wardens haven't got a mage yet and the King only got seven for the army." Oh yes... I know all about how I'm lower than the infection causing creatures I cleansed out of countless wounds today. "We're not really allowed to have apostates running about in our ranks. Makes the Chantry nervous."

"I'm hardly an apostate. I was shipped off to the Circle almost an hour after I first did magic. You know - it scared the shit out of me." I shrugged. It was the past. "Anyway - I've met you now. If it's not too much trouble I'd like to meet the other recruits."

"Oh yes. They're in the tent." Alistair started to walk to a grey and blue tent and I followed him in.

"Just a question. When was the last battle? I swear most of the wounds I was tending to were days old. My needlework has improved no end since I started three hours ago." I sat down in a canvas chair and kicked off my boots. I was tired. I hadn't realized just how much so. The amount of lyrium I has sloshing in my stomach had to be unhealthy too. I hefted my satchel onto my lap and pulled out my journal, quill and bottle of ink. I'm writing this all down. I plan on seeing the difference between healing wounds depending on how old they are.

"Four days ago." One of the people in the tent answered. I did a double take, almost knocking my ink over the clean page in my journal.

"What in Andraste's name?" I was furious. "You guys just try and keep me away from that infirmary. I dare you." I stood up, corking my ink as quickly as possible and started back out. All of a sudden I lost my footing and was on the floor, panting as if my lungs could no longer get enough air into them... that felt like... no. Was there a templar here?

"I'm sorry Will. I'll see if I can get some special permission for you to sent up a medic tent." Alistair was leaning with one hand on his knees, the other reaching out to me.

"First... things first." I huffed. "It's William. Not Will, or Bill, or Billy or anything else you care to think of." I regained some breath. Maker... did templars know how much that actually hurt?

"Second. Who's the fucking templar?" I stood up and immediately fell flat onto my front, dusty mud being sent up in a little cloud. I pursed my lips at the ground and looked up at the two men I had yet to speak to or know their names. It wasn't the man in leathers. Templars tended to wear heavy plate. So the balding one? He could possibly...

"As I said. I'm sorry." Alistair put his hand out again and I stared at it as if he'd coated it in deathroot powder.

"You? Ser 'I can't see a problem with magic' just smited me for all I'm worth?" And that in itself was quite a feat, most of the templars in the tower had _tried_ to smite me that much and failed. My mind was whirling as I hoisted myself up onto the canvas chair again. I had dropped like a sack of potatoes. "When were you going to say you were a templar?" I'd only just got away from the templars of the tower - to be handed over to more of them.

* * *

And so I met my fellow recruits. The week of healing and getting to know people almost flew by. Daveth was quite a laugh and I saw him best some of the archers on the range here. Now I appreciate archery, it's a fine noble sport and Maker knows my father had tried to teach me when I was younger and before I was carted off to the Circle. I could just about hold a bow back then - but alas, I hadn't had much of a chance to try since then. Daveth let me try. I failed.

"You have to widen your stance." He kicked my foot back. "Pull the string further behind your ear, not out. No... that's wrong." He took the bow off me and showed me exactly how to hit the target yet again.

"Just admit it. Even the infamous Daveth can't teach me how to hold a bow. Let alone fire an arrow." I sighed. "Anyway. I promised I'd get back to the tent. I have to see if I can beat Jory in Wicked Grace. I think I'm getting the hang of that particular thing." In truth - I sucked. I was the worst player out of Alistair, myself and Jory. Only Daveth really knew how to win, and most probably cheat. It seemed to be a learning experience for all of us.

"You're a silly sod. I'm most probably as likely to learn how to shoot lightning out me fingers as you are to shoot arrows." Daveth chuckled.

"Aye... Like this?" I gathered the loose static in the air and drew it to the archery target, obliterating it easily with a flick of my wrist. Daveth looked on slack-jawed as a man ran over and threw a bucket of sand and water over it to put the fire out - screaming obscenities at me. I think I've got a 'demon-may-care' attitude from being around the pickpocket. It rubbed off too easily. I can see Irving glaring at my lack of restraint. And Wynne lecturing. Oh, and getting smited. I see all of those things. Maker it felt so good to be free! I took a deep breath of the mucky air of the encampment. Dog shit and burning hay from the destroyed target. Freedom stank but it was almost felt too good to be true.

"You're mental. I'm pretty sure of it. I've seen you at your healing station - how do you do _that_ and then fix people?" Daveth finally spoke.

"Easy lad. I just focus on it. It may look like I don't give a second thought but you'd be surprised how much thought it all takes." That was true. Alistair had pestered me about it and I had to explain exactly how a healing aura is conjured. For a templar he surprised me. "Come on. Jory'll grouse if we stay out here too long." Also - the sooner I finished up the game the sooner I would get back to my special medic tent. King Calian himself approved of it, as had Teryn Loghain. I think the comment was something along the lines of 'about time someone pulled their hands out from under their arse.'

* * *

I lost the game. I lost spectacularly. Daveth won every dried pea we'd been gambling with as none of us actually had any coin. Although, I could swim in the amount of medical supplies I had. I had catgut thread, potions and poultices to spare as well as enough bandages and cloth to completely wrap half the army stored away in my special little tent. I was so proud of having that place. Not only was I doing the world of good - but it was a place to be alone too. Patients don't talk more than necessary and of inconsequential things; I have enough stories about snotty children, nagging mothers, proud fathers and battleaxe wives to last me a lifetime. I know too much about some of the sexual habits of most of the army too. It wasn't just wounds I managed to heal. I could feel the infections in their reproductive organs and so healed them as best I could, giving the person a quiet word about it afterward. I also told three women they were pregnant. I got hugged, slapped and cried at for those. I was not prepared for any of those reactions. It wasn't me! I just delivered the news!

"Just how do you manage that?" Alistair squinted at the rogue.

"Luck of the game boys. Luck of the game." He chuckled, throwing the dried peas into the air.

"Did you hear the word that Duncan should be here later in the day?" Jory mused. Well that would be good. We could finally meet the last recruit. And we could actually become Grey Wardens. Rather than still being recruits cooped up in this tent. It smelt worse than outside. I was Alistair and Jory's socks that ruled the olfactory world in here. Even my elfroot deadened nostrils after a long bout of healing were weak to it. Sensitive nose... I curse it.

"I'll go and meet him." Alistair stood up and brushed down the dust off his armour. "Anyone want to come with me?"

"I'm off to my tent. I have to be rid of this sock smell." I coughed for effect but as soon as I put the sign up outside my tent I would have a line trailing five people deep for hours on end. I blame the lyrium. I must slowly be becoming addled. I'm enjoying healing! Something is odiously wrong with me.

"How many injuries do you think you've had to deal with?" Jory asked. Oh - he was talking to me? At first he was worried I'd turn him into a frog. He was one of the people I had to listen to speak about a wife and child while I healed them. For someone not in combat he was prone to getting knocked badly enough to break a bone. I blame the sloping ruins after it rains. Who'd have though rain would make me heal for six hours straight before slumping over delirious on lyrium? Rain is fucking dangerous.

"Too many. I swear I'll be looking like a lump of lyrium one of these days. Or sweating the blue stuff." I snorted. "I'll see you all later."

* * *

I had been explaining to a man exactly why he shouldn't eat raw meat when Alistair burst into the tent. "Finish up now."

"Important?" I pursed my lips. "You'll have to come back later John. Just no more raw things. Cook your food!" I shook my head as Alistair brought a short ginger haired, chainmail clad person in and sat her down gently on the chair and John and he left. My bedside manner had been improving as of late.

"She collapsed when I introduced her to Jory and Daveth." Alistair called into the tent before leaving for good. Well that was something to know.

"What seems to be the problem?" I asked, pulling out a few cloths, poultices and some thread just in case. My candle was ready to quickly clean my very useful metal needle so I pretty much had most of it sorted. I'm getting quite good at this resident healer lark. I should cut back or it'll become expected of me. I stood up and stretched out my fingers before pulling deep into my reserves of mana. I might need another potion soon. I should be fine for the moment though.

"Nothing. I don't need a healer." She was fairly softly spoken, with this rough, almost vicious edge underneath and a twang like Daveth - a Denerim twang he said but different because he was of Chasind extract with the twang - this was all Denerim.

"Let's see shall we?" I'd had difficult patients. They were too proud to show they were hurt. I reached out and lifted her chin. Ouch that lip was split and bruised. As were her eyes. She looked to have two rather colorful shiners there, but behind them sky blue pools of... argh - stop looking at her like a bloody pervert. She's a patient - a badly injured one at that. "I can see you're in perfect health. No need for a healer." I sarcastically put it. I'd bet money I didn't have that she had worse bruises elsewhere - and worse injuries besides. She jerked her head away.

"Don't touch me shem!" She half spat. Well I hadn't been called that yet. It had a different ring to it than 'filthy mage'.

"I'm a healer. I'm not going to hurt you. I just fix the problems. Can I have a name or will I be doing all the talking?" I asked as I picked up a cloth and poultice, smearing the cleanest edge with the creamy red.

"Give me your name first." She leaned back in the chair and I saw the mottled bruises up her neck. They looked like she'd been strangled. What has this woman been up to?

"William Amell. Grey Warden recruit, galvanist, healer and general magical oddjobsman." I gave her a quick bow from the hip, grinning like a fool. I like that list of titles. Sounds better than 'kicked out of Kinloch Hold for aiding a blood mage'.

"Shiloh. Shiloh Tabris." A pretty name. Dammit - I'm doing it again. I'm not usually like this. I haven't had a meandering thought about any of the female patients brought to me previously. Some of them were rather pretty too. Dammit - I'm over-thinking.

"Well Shiloh. I have to put a hand on your shoulder so I can see if you have internal damage. Or the top of your head. Whichever you prefer." She looked at me as if I was going to rip her into pieces. Well that's spirit magic - walking bombs. Not my forte - too much blood.

"My head." She answered. Not much of a talker eh? I'm sure I can make up for that.

"So." I put a hand atop her head. Maker... there's internal bleeding in her kidneys. From heavy blows. She's scarred pretty much up most of her back and sides from rough applications of poultices and ripping the wounds open shortly after. "What brings you to this humble healing tent?"

"I'm a recruit too. The one you were all waiting for." Ah - so she's the mystery recruit. Was she battered like this on route to Ostagar or before Duncan recruited her? Either way - bravo for still being conscious. I let the silence fill the tent for a moment as I focused on knitting severed little blood vessels together that had caused her bruising.

"I'm going to have to ask you to remove the chain from your torso." I moved away and passed her one of the towels I had. "If you can get onto the cot, lay on your left side, so the right side is facing upwards. You can use the towel to preserve your modesty. You need stitches on the gash on you ribs. Probably seven or eight butterfly ones - they're rather strong so if you feel the need to run away they'll hold." She was looking at me like I was a drooling lecher. What... did I say something wrong? I'm too awkward. I need to stop making terrible jokes and start being a proper healer for this girl.

"If you think I'm going to remove any clothing, shem, you're very much mistaken." She went to stand but fell back down. When I said I needed to stitch her up I was serious.

"I'm not saying it because I want to see you undressed. I need to heal you. Magic can only do so much on wounds that have been there for a while. If you'd just got it all it would take would be a firm bandage holding it together and a bit of healing. It needs stitching." I couldn't believe just how firm I was being over the matter. But I was tired of having difficult patients. I was tired of people thinking they could soldier on. I obviously _do_ have balls of steel. This woman was looking at me as if she'd rip me in two if she had the strength at the moment.

"Fine. Turn away while I remove this." She pointed to the chain on her torso and I obliged. Although - not before I saw her brush her hair back behind her ear. Her pointed ear. And elf then? And here I thought elves were treated badly in the tower. I hadn't seen any elves here other than the ones who worked for the blacksmith Hardy. The way this one was acting it was if she didn't want to be anywhere near a human. Let alone one who'd see her in a vulnerable way. "You can do your healing now."

I turned back around and saw her laying on her side as I had asked, facing toward me so she could see what I was doing and holding the towel tight to her front. "Right. I use healing magic to numb the area, I sew it up and apply some poultice to reduce infection." I explained my process before cleansing my needle over the dying flame over my candle. I got a new one out of my satchel and lit it with the old candle before blowing the old one out. I worked methodically, gently probing the wound and removing the dirt from it and the built up fluids as I numbed it. I didn't want to hurt her. She'd most probably kill me as soon as I finished. Right... stitching.

"You know. You're a rather bonny thing." I bit my lip. Curse my fool tongue. "I mean... er... I'm not being lecherous or anything lassie. Just a comment my mouth made before my brain caught up with it."

"Just be quiet." She sniffed. I can do that. Maker do I have to be so awkward?

I sewed it neatly so it wouldn't pucker and applied a thin layer of poultice before turning back around, telling her she could get dressed. With her wiry muscular frame she should heal quite quickly given my own skills. I told her I was going to see Duncan, if she could blow my candle out when she was done and picked up my satchel, popping lyrium vials, poultices, my needle and thread and bandages into it before walking out so she could get dressed again.

Hopefully Duncan would have my phylactery. I wanted to destroy it. It had been a long time overdue. I want to get on with being a Grey Warden - not sitting around being a healer for every sod that walks through my tent flaps.

Then maybe I could see my fellow recruits in action. I've seen Jory and Daveth in the sparring ring, I've seen them with training dummies. But it would be interesting to see this elven lass and how she fought. When she was brought into my tent she didn't have a weapon on her - but judging by her musculature she wielded something heavy.

You know what? I hate healing. I've done it day in day out for a week and I'm not only knackered but I'm bored. It's an art for those who take everything into speculation. Look at me - I'm making scenarios of what people wield in my mind! I want to fry something alive, encase something in stone. I could even try learning new spells. I'll have to ask Duncan how easily spell books could be obtained. I need to keep my mind occupied or I'll end up having verbal diarrhea around the new recruit. And who knows how badly that'll go for me?


	4. (Musicalrain) The Scrapper

Author Note: Here's Shiloh's second chapter! Hope you all like! - Musicalrain

(Apollo Wings - I made a few changes to dialogue and a little more thoughts/introspection in certain areas but I didn't change much really.)

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

This... is not good. "Fuck off!" I shout, yet it only serves to anger my attacker more. I wish I had a belt knife. That would be so handy right now.

Oh? And who's attacking me you might ask? A whole shit loads of wolves. Apparently the dinner Duncan made of root vegetables and dried meat attracted a bunch of hungry canines. They evidently want some salty potato and venison stew. Even if it's inside us. And currently, I'm lucky enough to be on the receiving end of a snarling wolf in my face. It managed to get inside Holly while I focused on another of its packmates, and dislodge Holly from my grasp. I'm pushing it's neck back as hard as I can with my armored forearm. My strength seems to be flagging a little, since I'm still not quite healed up from that mess at the Arl of Denerim's estate. I should probably change my bandages. The wolf snaps and snarls at me, and I attempt to push back harder. I'm so happy for Mamae's least favorite armor right now.

The wolf wines in pain, and slumps forward in its death, the cause of which is a knife Duncan threw to lodge between its shoulderblades. I so owe him one. I scramble to pick up Holly, and run as quick as I can over to Duncan to help him with the last two. They're put down easily enough between our blades. I don't like the idea of killing hungry animals, but what are you going to do when they decide you'll make a nice snack?

Once it's finished, Duncan collects his thrown knife and announces that we need to make camp elsewhere. Totally understandable. Dead wolves and all.

We walk in the darkening eve to make camp some ways away from our first site. Once we're settled, and cleaning our arms and armor after tending to our wounds (which I have many lovely scars from fighting in a dress), I take a moment to think about what Duncan told me the previous night. We've been on the road for three nights now, the first a hurried attempt to leave the city after a quick jaunt to the local Chantry. But last night... I asked Duncan why he didn't assist when that arse-face, Vaughan, ruined my wedding. Apparently Grey Wardens cannot get involved in any political matters, or things that fall into the local Guard's jurisdiction. It's a load of crap. I don't like it, and Duncan assures me that he doesn't either. He said many would benefit with the aid of anyone able, but once you're a Warden you give up the right to be able in many situations. That's just... probably the stupidest thing of the order. I'm sure there's plenty of good reasons, but still. I may be biased to think otherwise though.

Duncan's voice calls me from my thoughts, "You have yet to ask me about the other recruits. They are waiting for our return. I thought you would be interested in such information."

I look up from my work on Holly, "Why? Are they interesting people?"

He smirks, "I suppose that depends." He sets his daggers aside. "How about your mother then? You've yet to ask about her either."

I shrug, "She told lots of stories. I know much about her time helping you." I purse my lips, "How about the other Wardens? Are there many?"

Duncan frowns, "Not as much as I would prefer, but our place in Ferelden is tenuous at best."

That gets my attention, "Why?"

* * *

After two more days of travel we see Ostagar in the distance. I've learned much since then. Everything Duncan was willing to share. The man likes to tell his stories too. I do think he's probably the nicest shem I know. I suppose that's good, since he'll soon be my commander after this 'Joining' thing.

We come up to a wide, long bridge, and after we cross it we catch sight of a fair-haired shem man wearing splintnail with a sword and shield strapped to his back walking towards us.

He smiles and bows his head at Duncan. "It's good to see you well, Duncan."

Duncan lowers his head in kind, "It's good to see you too, Alistair." He motions towards me, "This is our last recruit. May I introduce the daughter of my late friend Adaia, Shiloh Tabris."

This 'Alistair' extends a hand out towards me, and I reluctantly clasp his hand in a brisk shake. Must keep to my manners in front of Duncan now. After all, he's told me Alistair is a Warden. "It's nice to meet you." I just attempt to smile in return to his words. Why is polite conversation so difficult? It doesn't help that he's a shem. I'm... far from exactly friendly with humans. Except Duncan. He's uncle-like.

Duncan addresses Alistair, "Escort Shiloh to the blacksmith, where she can purchase herself a belt knife on our allotment from the King. It seems she is without, and would benefit from one."

"Of course."

He continues, "After, take her to meet the other recruits, and then bring them all to me so we may start preparations for the Joining."

"Speaking of other recruits." Alistair scratched the back of his neck. "We had a problem when the mage turned up but it's all sorted now. I had _stern words_." Duncan pursed his lips in response and Alistair shrugged. I get the feeling there's something about the unspoken words between them but I cant be bothered to ask right now.

I walk a little distance away from the young Warden, all the while contemplating why it's so damn hot and glaring at shems that give me looks I don't like as we pass. There's a lot of them. And holy Maker's shit am I hot. Chain has its disadvantages. I'm also a little itchy, and my side feels off. I can't help but frown.

We're walking towards the supposed direction of the blacksmith, but I'm a little distracted when I see kennels. Are those mabari? Wow! I've never seen one in person. Aw. They're cute little man-eating dogs, aren't they?

"Hey! What're you doing wearing that chain knife-ears?" I'm sorry? Did I just hear a bigot spouting racist slurs while I stare at mabari? I look up to see a fat, balding man wearing a blacksmith's apron. It's just lovely that the blacksmith is a racist jackass. I shouldn't have expected anything less.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me, knife-eared wench. I told you to clean the armor, not wear it fool!"

I snarl, and my hands curl into fists. Alistair goes to say something, but I ignore him as rage starts to cloud my vision. Fucking sodding slob! I'll show him who's the fool! Before I even consciously realize what I've done, the blacksmith is on his knees before me holding his bloody, broken nose with both hands.

"I'm a Grey Warden recruit you flaming sod!" Oh it feels good to say that. "Learn to control your tongue, shem arse!"

He starts spitting apologies as he begins crying in pain, and maybe fear. My hand is definitely around his collar. "I'm sorry, milady. I-I didn't know. You just look like me serving girl, is all. I'm sorry for me mistake."

"Uh, Shiloh." I look over my arm raised to strike the shem again, to see Alistair with a pale face and a nervous expression. "M-maybe you could let him go? He seems to have learned his lesson, and you do need a belt knife, right?" The sodding blacksmith is all to eager to give me the best belt knife he has in his possession. That doesn't make up for his bigotry. Flaming sodding son of a swine-born darkspawn shit! Whoa. I'm so angry I'm starting to feel light headed. I better tone it down some.

* * *

After that _lovely _venture to the blacksmith, I think I've calmed down enough to be mildly sociable by the time Alistair announces that we've arrived at the recruit's tent. Once we enter, my eyes are immediately drawn to the man with the bow slung across his back. Can this day get any worse?

"My, my... Isn't it that girl from the docks?"

I scowl at the pickpocket. Yep. I know him. He bet against me in the pits, and then tried to pickpocket me to make up for his lost coin after. I broke two of his fingers before he fled.

"You... know Daveth?" Alistair questions from my side.

"He tried to lift my coin." I explain.

A taller, slightly older man snorts from beside lightfingers. "'Tried'. I take it, that he wasn't successful?"

"Shut it Jory," the pickpocket groans, and then looks at me with an expression I don't like – at all. "Yeah. This beaut even broke a few fingers in getting her purse back. Right darling?"

I bare my teeth threateningly, and go to tell him I'll break more if he tries anything, but I suddenly sway on my feet, and before I know it I'm on my back on the tent's floor. The fuck? I think the gash on my side is bleeding. It feels a bit sticky.

"Ha! First time I ever made a woman swoon!"

"Shut it Daveth!" Alistair barks, and then bends over me. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," I huff. "I think my gash might need tending to."

"You're injured?" His brow furrows. "We have a magical healer, do you want me to take you to him? Can you stand?"

I scowl, and manage to sit up after two attempts. When did I get so weak? "All I need is some new bandages." Why am I talking to this man? He needs to stop concerning himself over this.

"I'll take her to the wizard!" I glare over my shoulder at the pickpocket.

"No. I don't need a healer." Just leave me be shems! I can take care of myself!

Alistair frowns further, "He's really quite good, or so I hear. Come on. I'll take you to him, if you'll let me?"

I can feel the start of perpetual wrinkles between my brows when talking to this Warden. I sigh. "Fine." But I can't guarantee I'll allow this _healer _to see to anything. Alistair assists me in removing Holly's harness, as I'm a bit wobbly on my feet. I can't believe I'm listening to this human.

* * *

I have to bite at the inside of my cheek just so I won't snap at the shem and tell him I can walk on my own. All these human men looking at me like I'm some helpless maiden. That I'm easy for the pickings. That pickpocket was a little _too _eager to volunteer himself to aid me. I didn't like the way he was looking at me. Like I'm something he could devour. If he looks at me like that again, I'll show him a woman he can eat – Holly.

Alistair leaves me outside the healing tent to see if the healer's available. I don't need a sodding healer. I don't need a sodding shem. He returns and rewraps his arm around me before I can protest. He brings me into the tent, and sits me in a chair after a rather hairy looking human left it. I hope I don't get lice. I glare daggers at Alistair all the while as he walks away beside the hairy shem, and calls out, "She collapsed when I introduced her to Jory and Daveth."

I look in the direction Alistair was looking in when he spoke, and see a rather tall and thin human man... in a dress. This is obviously a very strange shem. I don't even really like dresses, yet _he's _in one. Who'd Alistair leave me with?

He begins pulling out various things from a bag beside him, and asks me, "What seems to be the problem?"

It takes me a moment to answer after he asks his question. I've never heard such an accent before. Where's this shem from? "Nothing. I don't need a healer." It's true. This is all Alistair's idea. All I need is some clean bandages, and I'll be fine. I don't need any human looking after me. I can take care of myself. No helpless maiden here. Nope.

He walks over towards me after he stands from his seat. Once he's within arms reach he stops and asks, "Let's see shall we?" My body tenses, and I'm fighting a snarl. If he gets any closer I just may smack him. Alistair was different. Duncan spoke highly of him, and he's a Warden. I couldn't really fight Alistair over wanting to assist me. I was having a little difficulty, but all this'll go away with a nice health poultice and fresh bandages. I don't know who, or what, this human is, and he's not... Are those his fingers under my chin?!

"I can see you're in perfect health. No need for a healer." I immediately pull my chin back, is he mocking me?

Son of a flaming... "Don't touch me shem!" Yup. I'm snarling. Fucking sodding shem. Who's he think he is that he can touch me? Did I give him permission? I don't think I did!

His expression changes, I don't recognize it, and he moves to return to his table, picking up a reddish colored jar. Damn his hair's long. Looks silky too. Wait. Why am I looking at his hair? I think I might need more than one health poultice, something's obviously wrong.

His voice calls my attention back to his face as he turns, "I'm a healer. I'm not going to hurt you. I just fix the problems." Oh. Well, I suppose he's right about that. Not that I'll tell him. "Can I have a name or will I be doing all the talking?"

I snort and sit back to look at him better. Damn he's tall too. "Give me your name first." Time to find out who this human with boundary issues is.

I see his gaze flutter to my neck before he looks back to my face, and grins widely before he folds an arm around his middle and bows at the waist dramatically. What is up with him? Was he dropped on his head as a babe? What shem bows to an elf? "William Amell. Grey Warden recruit, galvanist, healer and general magical oddjobsman." Well apparently 'William Amell' does. Strange shem. Well, strange almost-Grey Warden, actually. So he's a recruit too? Odd. Duncan obviously has... unique tastes in Wardens. I wonder what that says about me? And what the Void is a galvanist?

Oh, he's looking at me all expectantly. I guess I might as well be polite in face of his odd behavior. Bowing to an elf. Hah! "Shiloh. Shiloh Tabris." His expression turns thoughtful when I tell him my name. What? Shiloh's a perfectly respectable elven name 'William'.

He smiles again. It's not... the creepiest smile I've seen. It's actually, okay, I guess. For a human. "Well Shiloh." Whoa. With his accent my name almost sounds... pretty. Where'd that thought come from? He continues, and I force myself to pay attention. "I have to put a hand on your shoulder so I can see if you have internal damage. Or the top of your head. Whichever you prefer." What? He's going to touch me again? Well... at least this time he asked. This is shit. Didn't Alistair say he was a magical healer? Can't he just shoot magic at me or something, like in those stories Soris would tell?

Ugh. If he must. "My head."

He carefully places a hand atop my head. Damn his hand's big. "So." I look up to see his eyes loose focus at the same time a cool, almost numbing sensation flutters over my skin and beneath. Oh this feels weird. Is this healing magic? "What brings you to this humble healing tent?"

He seems to talk a lot. One of those kinds that has to fill silences with words, and can't just let a silence be. Reminds me of my cousins. They could both be chatterboxes when inclined. Might as well answer the shem, "I'm a recruit too. The one you were all waiting for." Things are starting to feel a little tingly. And the numbing feeling is starting to get warmer, mostly in my neck and back. This is weird. But, the pain is fading...

"I'm going to have to ask you to remove the chain from your torso." I'm sorry? Is he asking what I think he's asking? "If you can get onto the cot, lay on your left side, so the right side is facing upwards. You can use the towel to preserve your modesty. You need stitches on the gash on your ribs. Probably seven or eight butterfly ones - they're rather strong so if you feel the need to run away they'll hold." Nuh-uh. Not happening, bud. No way in the flaming Void am I getting undressed in front of a shem. Towel or not. Pervert.

"If you think I'm going to remove any clothing, shem, you're very much mistaken." I stand up to leave. I've had enough of this guy. That gash will be fine with some health poultice. Seriously, chain's staying on the body. No helpless maiden here. Shit. My legs feel wobbly.

I fall back into the seat and he says, "I'm not saying it because I want to see you undressed. I need to heal you." Did his voice just get some bite to it? Is he being snippy with me? "Magic can only do so much on wounds that have been there for a while. If you'd just got it all it would take would be a firm bandage holding it together and a bit of healing. It needs stitching."

I glare at him for a moment or two as I consider his words. The wound on my side does hurt like a bitch. Maybe... maybe a poultice wouldn't just cut it. Damn. Have it your way mage. "Fine. Turn away while I remove this." I point at my chain and he nods his head. Good. If he wouldn't have turned, I would've punched him. Or tried to anyways. I am feeling less than glorious right now. Err. Chainmail. How do I take you off in a chair?

I manage to stand on shaky legs and take off the heavy chain, when did it get so complicated? Then I remove my clothes, including my breastband, because the gash it pretty high on my ribs, and then my bandages. Eww. It's infected. Explains the itchy painfulness. Ah, I suppose it is bad. But the sodding shem didn't have to be so pissy with me. I look around and see a cot. I sit and lay on it like he asked, and hold the towel over my chest. Shem better hold his tongue and keep his eyes in check, or he'll regret it. If I was a different woman, I may have been embarrassed with the situation.

"You can do your healing now."

He turns around and quickly strides over with his full bag in tow. Good his eyes didn't stray. "Right. I use healing magic to numb the area, I sew it up and apply some poultice to reduce infection." He comes and stands over me, and I look up at him all the while. I'll be damned if I don't pay attention to what he's doing. He reaches out and... is his hand glowing blue? Is that magic? His fingers touch my side, and the pain fades to be replaced by that numbing feeling from earlier. His eyes are trained solely on my wound as he cleans and probes it. I can't feel a thing. This is weirder. I try to look over my shoulder to see what he's doing, and I can't make out much, so I look back to his face. He bites the inside of his cheek when he's concentrating. That's... umm. What are those markings on his face? Tattoos? They remind me of those markings that the Dalish are said to have. But he's _not _Dalish. Far, far from it.

His voice calls me out from my musings, "You know. You're a rather bonny thing." What the sod is 'bonny'? Did he just insult me? "I mean... er... I'm not being lecherous or anything lassie. Just a comment my mouth made before my brain caught up with it." What? I guess it wasn't an insult. Then a compliment? What human compliments an elf? Really strange shem.

I study his face for a moment. He's biting his lip now, and is he blushing a little? What the Void? This is... this is too weird. "Just be quiet." His whole body seems to sag, but he nods and grabs a needle and thread. Ah. Stitches. I'm no stranger to those. He finishes up without another word, and says,

"Just blow out my candle whenever you're done changing. I'm going to go see Duncan." He quickly gathers various objects into his bag, doesn't even look at me as he speaks, before he leaves the tent. I feel myself repeating my earlier statement again – he is a very strange human.

It sit up and look at the gash on my side that he healed. It did hurt, and I have no delusions that it was bad, but the entire healing it was... strange. Heh. Strange shem, and strange healing. I toss the towel to the side, and quickly don my breastband, tunic, and chain. I suppose it is mine now. The chain, and not Mother's. Wait... Where's Holly? Sodding shit! Alistair left her in the tent! The pickpocket better not have touched her! I'll... I'll, well, I don't know what I'll do, but it won't be pleasant.

I march over to the tent flap, but... oh, right the candle. Don't want the tent catching flame, now do we? As I go over to blow out the candle, I notice a leather bound book laying face up near it. It's opened, and, well, I'm a bit curious, so I take a look. There's a chart of some sort on the left side, with what appears to be a list of injuries including everything from 'severely infected burn' to 'intestinal parasite', followed by tally marks. Hopefully that isn't a mark of the injuries' occurrences, because the number of those with 'genital infection' is concerning. On the right side of the page, it appears to be a journal entry. All I did was read the first line, before I had to stop. A frown covers my face. Ugh. Now I feel bad for the strange shem. Might as well give him back his book, before lightfingers steals it or someone with ill intentions sees his journal. I close the journal, blow out the candle, and head towards the tent where I collapsed. Hey, I might want to give the man back his book, but Holly's more important at the moment.

I enter the tent only to have a blanket thrown over my head. What the Void?

"I'm sorry?" I guess I just cursed aloud. I pull the blanket off of my head, to see the healer. His expression turns a little panicked when he sees me, "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hit you, Shiloh."

I purse my lips together. My name still sounds... different when he says it. "It was just a blanket." Now that I can see, there's blankets and clothes strewn about the entire tent. He sees me looking around at the mess, and feels the need to explain himself.

"I was just on my way to see Duncan, when I realized that I didn't have my..." His voice trails off as he looks to my arms to see what I'm holding, then suddenly exclaims with a little too much eagerness, "My journal!" He rushes over, nearly tripping on the clothes on the ground in the process, and reaches out with his hands, stopping just shy of grabbing the journal. I extend my hands out in turn and he grabs it eagerly, hugging it to his chest. I guess it is really important to him then. "What are you doing here? If you don't mind my asking, that is."

I blink at him. And why does he care? "Looking for Holly."

"And who is Holly?"

I don't answer him, but begin to push the blankets to the side where I fell looking for my greatsword. I find her pushed to the edge of the tent, beneath a few rather large tunics. I unsheathe her, and check her for any marks or signs of misuse in case the pickpocket touched her. She thankfully looks fine. I strap the harness with her attached scabbard to my chest, and secure the belt. I pat the flat of her blade lovingly, and sheathe her at my back with practiced ease.

"Is that what you were looking for?" Oh. The human mage. How did I forget he was here exactly? I turn to look at him. His eyes are wide, and his head is tilted some. Is he confused over Holly's name? Or is he confused over my wielding of a greatsword? Both maybe? It wouldn't surprise me. People who don't care for their weapons don't name them, and most don't believe a woman, let a lone an elf, can use such a large weapon. That's racist _and _sexist there. How wondrous. "That's your weapon then? You use it in battle, and fight things with it? That... gigantic sword? I guessed by your musculature some rather heavy weapon, but it's larger than I guessed."

I roll my eyes and move to the front of the tent, when I don't recognize that he's following, I turn to look at him. "Duncan?" I question, and he hurries to catch up to me. I'm not really sure why I care if he's following me or not, but we are both going to see the same man. The other recruits and Alistair are probably already there.

I can see him consciously making the effort to slow his pace to match mine as he walks beside me, close but not too much. Well sorry that I'm an elf, and at least a foot shorter than he. He's... what's the word? A beanpole?

We pass the kennels, and I can't help it when my sensitive elven hearing picks up the muttering of the kennel master to himself, "I might have to put him down then. He still won't let me put on the muzzle..."

The kennel master is going to kill a mabari? That's... horrible! I have to check it out. I alter my course suddenly, and the healer calls out, "Hey! Where are you going lassie? I thought we were heading to see Duncan."

I ignore him again, and walk up to the kennel master. He's holding a large leather muzzle loosely in his hands, and looking into one of the kennels with a troubled frown. "What's the matter here?"

He starts and looks down at me quizzically before looking at the human that just stopped beside me with a raised brow. He looks back at me, "I'm sorry?"

I feel a scowl crease my face, "What is the _problem_ with the _mabari_?" I elaborate. Has he never had anyone ask after the mabari before, or is he startled because I'm an elf?

He sighs, and whatever the problem was, he answers me anyway, "This mabari's master was killed in the last skirmish with the darkspawn, and he got tainted. He's in a lot of pain, but I can't do anything to help him, until I get this muzzle on him. He won't let me get close."

I stand on my toes and look over the gate into the kennel pen. There's a light brown mabari with black eyes and nose, and white dots and running lines painted into his fur. He's hunched in a corner shivering and snarling as he stares down the kennel master. I frown deeply. I've always had a soft spot for animals, especially dogs. When I was a child I brought home a stray feral mutt. Pennington was my best friend until he passed two summers ago. I look back at the kennel master, "I'll try."

He blinks a few times and repeats one of his earlier questions, "I'm sorry?" I huff a breath and motion at the muzzle in his hands. Seriously shem, if you're going to kill the poor beast the least you can do is let me try to save him from that. Common sense anyone? The starts again and quickly hands over the muzzle. "If you're sure you want to try." I nod, and he quickly opens the kennel door for me. The mabari growls lowly when he sees me, or maybe because he sees the kennel master.

I hear the mage call out from behind me, "Are you certain that's a good idea Shiloh? That dog doesn't look very friendly." I step further into the kennel, and he says, "Oh, well if you need healing after I'll be here with bandages and stitches at the ready."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and once the gate is closed behind me, I crouch down as low as I can to the ground. The mabari is snarling in earnest now, but he hasn't moved to attack me. I extend a hand out, palm up, just like I did when I found Pennington. The mabari looks at it, and his snarl starts to fade. His ears start to perk up from where they were held back, and his gaze travels from my hand to my face. His head tilts, and I say softly, "I won't hurt you."

He gets up slowly, and it's obviously a great effort. I stay put, knowing it's not wise to move, and he sniffles my fingers. He seems to come to a decision, as his ears perk all the way up, and he sits on his hind legs. I feel a big grin cross my face. Who has skills with dogs? That's right, me! I stand up slowly, and move the same hand I held out to rub the fur between his ears as gently as I can with a gauntlet. He bows his head, and I take that as a sign that I can put the muzzle on him. And I do so. Once I'm done, I crouch down to the quite tall mabari's level and stroke his ear and say, "You're okay now. You'll be fine." He whines, and I fight the urge to hug him. Poor thing's so adorable. Well, as adorable as a war beast can be.

I get up and leave the kennel. Both men are looking at me like I just spontaneously grew horns or something. Way to have faith guys. I furrow my brow and address the kennel master, "You can treat him now."

The kennel master closes his gaping mouth and replies, "I can, but I think he'd have a better chance of surviving if I could treat him with this one flower. White with a red center." He looks back and forth between me and the healer again, and questions, "Are you a Grey Warden recruit too?" He doesn't wait for an answer before he continues, "I know the Wardens have been out in the Wilds on patrols. If you come across such a flower, could you bring it to me to help this beast?"

I nod. Of course I'd help a mabari. "I will."

He smiles relieved. "Thank you Serah."

I start walking again, and the mage shem hurriedly catches up to walk beside me. "So you have a wee soft spot for dogs then?" Geeze does he like to talk. A lot. I really have very little interest in talking to a shem. Even a fellow recruit, and one who's... only tried to be helpful. And I feel a little bit sorry for. Ugh. Fine. I'll talk.

"Yes, but he's a mabari. Not just a dog." There! Gotta be the most I've said to him without anger. Accomplishment right there.

"That makes a difference?" He questions. Well, he's obviously not Ferelden, I wonder where the accent comes from then, so he'd not understand. I'm not explaining Fereldens and mabari. That'd be like explaining the uses of a chicken. Oh! I see Duncan and the others in the distance. Well, now I don't have to explain something so obvious.

I quickly walk up to the group with the strange shem trailing after. Duncan gives me a quick smile before looking to the mage beside me and nodding once.

The mage quickly opens his mouth to ask, "Were you able to get my phylactery?"

Duncan nods again at him in confirmation, "Yes. And I took the opportunity to destroy it for you, as I assumed you wanted, William."

He breathes a heavy sigh of relief, "Thank you Ser."

"Oh - and thank you for setting up that tent. It gained us a little more favor with the army." The mage smiled at that.

"Couldn't help it. I saw the line of injured soldier getting shoddy care - leeches!" He shuddered.

Duncan sighed before looking around at everyone quickly and saying, "Now that we're all gathered we can start the preparations for the Joining."

"Do we get to find out what this Joining is now?" asks the fellow greatsword wielding warrior. I get the sense I won't like this shem much. His very voice is grating.

"Not quite, but I'd like for you and the other recruits to accompany Alistair into the Wilds to gather what is needed in preparation for it. You will need four vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit. I also ask that you journey to an abandoned Warden outpost in the Wilds, where there should be a chest containing treaties long ago forged with those promising to ally themselves with the Wardens in the event of a Blight. I fear we may find use for them in time to come." There's a collective sounds of acquiescence, or in lightfinger's case groan, and nods. "Are there any questions?" Of course the shem (Jory?) asks why we need the blood, but Duncan assures him that it is part of the process for becoming a Warden. It sounds like tradition, if nothing else, and I am quite familiar with undesirable things done for the sake of tradition. If Duncan wants darkspawn blood and treaties, then Duncan will get darkspawn blood and treaties. Why does the shem have to question him so much?

We collectively move towards the gates with Alistair in the lead, and, most annoyingly, the pickpocket decides to walk beside me. Far too close. I'm gonna punch him.

"So, are you feeling better now? Up for a little... strenuous activity?" Lecherous fool.

I snarl at him, "Leave me be, shem."

"Oh? Feisty aren't we? Well, I happen to know just how-"

"I don't think the lass likes that sort of attention Daveth." I turn to look over my shoulder, and see the healer fighting a scowl at he looks at the pickpocket. What is this? I don't need some human thinking he can fight my fights for me. Do you see a helpless maiden here? No?

"All of you shems," I look to the both of them. "Do not speak to me." I move to walk away, closer to Alistair and Jory, but far enough away to ensure my own space. Sodding sons of...

Alistair's voice suddenly calls my attention as we arrive at the gate, "We're entering the Wilds now." He briefly looks to each of us, "Be ready."

* * *

Alistair wasn't kidding. The Wilds are just a... vacation destination, aren't they? I snort at my own thoughts before I swing Holly downwards into the neck of a large grey wolf that I've already crippled with a slice to its front leg. Not twenty paces outside the gates, and we're set on by a pack of wolves. Good thing I already have some experience with these, and a belt knife now, just in case.

I hear a yell, and turn around to see the shem, Jory, tackled by a wolf that managed to get inside his greatsword's reach. One of the disadvantages of such a large weapon is the slow swings. Difficult to compensate when fighting something shorter and faster. I see the mage turn his attention towards the fallen man, and the wolf seize with an electrical blot. Odd that. When I first saw the mage use his abilities for something other than healing, I was... surprised to say the least. It's definitely not a common talent. Soris would've liked to see the shem channel stone and electricity, just like the fanatical stories he would tell. Except, unlike those stories, the power he wields isn't endless, and I doubt he can turn anyone into a toad. It would be nice to turn shem into toads though. I find myself shaking my head at my thoughts before I leap with a sweeping downward swing at the nearest wolf, ending its life quickly.

I bring my pommel smashing into the head of the next and bark, "Feel my blade!" before bringing Holly down onto its back with enough force to sever its spine. I run to one giving Alistair a tough time, and manage to pierce its side with Holly. I pull downwards on the withdraw gutting it in the process. Alistair gives me a quick nod of thanks, and I look around to see we've finished off the pack.

The mage pants out, "Anyone in need of any healing?" I'm fine. I actually feel a similar raging exhilaration I've been getting when fighting, but as I look around, I see Jory on the ground clutching his off hand to his chest with a grimace on his face. The man's surprisingly not that able. Why did Duncan recruit him then? The mage jogs over to him, and after a quick few words, he pulls off the man's gauntlet to touch and heal him with his magic. Everyone else seems to have fared better.

I look off to the marshy bog beside us when I hear a splash, most likely from a frog, and my eyes are immediately drawn to a red-centered white-petaled flower. I quickly walk over to it, and pluck it close to its base. I hope this is the flower the kennel master needs. I'd hate to see the mabari suffer. He's a sweet dog. I open the large pouch attached to my belt, and put the flower in amongst my emergency flint, oil, and sharpening kit for Holly. I walk back to the group once the mage announces that he's finished.

We start off again, all a little edgy now that we've seen some battle. But it's good as we now know our collective strengths and weaknesses – Jory. The man's technique could definitely use some work. I'm not egotistical enough to think mine's perfect, but his leaves something to be desired. None of the shem choose to walk beside me, which is all good for me. I asked them to stay away, didn't I? Then why do I feel... lonely? Shit. I just miss my family, that's it.

Alistair suddenly stops, and my attention is drawn to the front of our procession. "I suggest you all take out your weapons," he says loudly. "I sense darkspawn are near."


	5. (Apollo Wings) The Muddied

Author note: I have fallen in love with writing in 1st person again. I knew all it would take would be an awkward mage. Or - as my sister said "The Scottish Mage!" *in the same level of dramatics as seen in Blackadder when "The Scottish Play" is said* ... so, I just keep drawing him? Whenever I find myself doodling the doodles turn into William, I like drawing him. If you look for apollo-wings on deviantart you should see the scene of William getting told off by a very unflattering Wynne in my last chapter. I can't draw women. I draw tall mages with tattoos.

Also - if you have no idea what I rambled on about with Blackadder. It's the epitome of English humour in my opinion. Look up "Blackadder - Don't Say Macbeth" on youtube and you'll see why I have no sense of humour to the general populace. Alas - it's terrible being me.

* * *

**William Amell**

I take back my want of crushing things in stone and frying their insides out. I'm covered from head to toe in mud. I'm sopping wet with the stuff. My chest feels like I've broken every rib despite my own assurances that I'm just winded. Sometimes being a spindly mage is a good thing.

I should explain. I was thrown by a darkspawn maul to the chest. TO THE CHEST. It Hurt! I felt like every breath was taken in through a reed poked between clenched teeth. Not only that - I was thrown into the marshy, disgusting bog that we're trampling in to get blood and treaties. Not just the bit we were walking on either, that was relatively easy to walk in compared to being at my knee height in swampy mud water. Argh. I hoisted my robes above my knees and strode out of the boggy water. I don't ever want to be on the receiving end of a weapon again. Especially a darkspawn one. Disfigured, tainted monsters.

The fight had been over for a while and Daveth was nursing a grazed cheek, Jory was doubled over on his side, groaning but from preemptive analysis he was just winded like I was and Alistair and Shiloh were just staring at me like I'd grown an extra head, seemingly unharmed themselves. "What? Can't a mage take a swim without getting weird looks?" That brought a smile to the elven lass's face.

"Your legs! They're so... thin!" Alistair pointed at them for better effect and I fought the compulsion I had to make a sarcastic comment. I failed.

"It's the diet of tatties and vegetables. They don't really encourage mages to get any muscles. We might just rise up against the templars." I snorted. Argh... I can feel it seeping all the way through my robes, I think my hair is holding the most of the disgusting water. It takes forever to get the tangles out after a thorough washing like it obviously needs now. "Hang on a second. Alistair - you said you sense darkspawn right?"

"Yeah..." He trailed off, a questioning expression on his face.

"I need to get this mud off me. I feel the tiny infection causing creatures just crawling on my skin. Are there any more nearby?" I tugged at the straps and chain holding my pauldrons on and slipped them off. All the feathers are bedraggled! As soon as we get back to camp I'm hunting down the laundry woman and selling a few of my recipes for salves to pay for the cleaning... until then...

"Not for a good ten minutes walking." He pursed his lips. "What in the Maker's name are you doing?"

"I'm getting rid of the mud. It has those creatures in it. You forget - a Spirit Healer feels every life-force near him. Even these pesky things. I can't turn it off." It's true. Thankfully they don't have heartbeats or I'd get a headache. I think that's where my headaches come from - being around so many heartbeats. I staked my staff into the mushy floor and hooked the pauldrons on top. I turned to the only female of our little group. "Excuse me my lady but I'm sorry." Shiloh looked at me as if I'd just slapped her. Well... here goes nothing. I unlaced the side of my robes and pushed the top half to rest around my slim hips, being thankful my belt was keeping it all up. I'm too weedy. I think I may just be all height and bones sometimes.

I searched for the water in the air - and was thankful for the abundance of it. I really can't do elemental spells properly. I might just have to learn if this happens often enough. "Just why are you taking your clothes off?" Jory was staring now. Great - my concentration is gone. Does everyone have to stare? I feel awkward enough.

"Well... I plan on freezing them and shaking as much ice off as possible so I can get the infection creatures off me. I hate this." Jory was still staring. "What the fuck are people staring at?"

"How many tattoos do you have wizard?" Daveth laughed. "Didn't think you the sort to get that many!" They were staring at those? I suppose that's better than my lack of physique. In fact - that's much better. I prefer the staring at my inked skin rather than skinny frame.

"Aye, I like it. Let's see...Elbows." I raised my elbows. "Shoulders and my knees." I lifted the hem of my robes again to flash knobbly knees. "Not forgetting my face. Now if you'll let me concentrate - I have robes to freeze."

I managed to gather the ice onto my robes. Not my best idea. I'm now cold, the ice I couldn't shake off is melting. The only good thing is the infection creatures are mainly gone. Oh - and did I mention - everyone is still staring at me like I'm about to pull another stunt like that? I hurriedly pulled the icy top half of my robe back on and re-strapped and chained my pauldrons back on, yanking my staff from the ground. "Come on. We need to get blood and treaties don't we?"

No Ser am I going to do that EVER again. What possessed me to even think freezing the wet mud off would be a good idea? I was trudging the slippery path we had decided to walk on, Alistair in the lead, Daveth scouting slightly further ahead and Jory talking to Alistair. "I like your tattoos." Huh... where did that come from? I looked down to the voice... a short ginger elf was blushing furiously. "I... didn't say that."

"Oh didn't you lass? What do you like about them? I could always give you one..." Shit. My brain just caught up with my mouth. Foot - meet mouth. "I... I meant I could tattoo you. If you want. I tattooed my own knees. You numb them with healing magic, ready the needle in the ink and just... draw." I could feel the heat burning over my entire face and down my neck. I can also feel the mud still on my skin - starting to dry a bit. Argh. I'm not only having a bout of being an awkward arse - I'm an awkward arse who's covered in mud.

"I'll pass." She sniffed. Are we both blushing here? Just where have we wandered to? Do I have to fight again Daveth and Jory are looking expectantly at Alistair. Argh. I'm going to get covered in mud again I just know it. One day - I'll not end up looking a right mess.

"Did anyone want some healing?" I ventured, walking swiftly toward where Alistair, Jory and Daveth were ahead. I feel like I repeat that line too often but I forgot to ask when I was dragging myself out of the swampy mess I ended up in.

"Nah mate, we're all fine." Daveth answered. I scrunched up my mouth. I'm going to say something stupid again to Shiloh. She's still looking at me like I'm going set her on fire. I just want to tell her I can't do flames.

"Darkspawn!" Alistair shouted. There was a collaborative unhooking and hiss of metal on metal as people unsheathed their weapons and I readied my staff. You know what? I might just wear some rock armour. It might be a good time for it. I wrapped the loose dust particles in the air around me into thin but strong plate, slightly away from my skin so I could move and angled so I wouldn't get another maul to the chest like last time... Argh. Last time.

The first of the hideous monsters screamed over the ledge and both Daveth and I fired at the thing simultaneously. His arrow embedded in its eye and my lightning paralyzed it until it slumped down dead. Jory was stomping ahead, his greatsword at a weird angle... then I noticed how he swung it upwards and gutted one of the taller darkspawn from groin to neck. Ouch. I don't want to imagine that on me. Shiloh was sprinting with her own greatsword out... what did she call it... Holly? She reversed her grip on the sword and there was a horrid crunch as she slammed the hilt of it home in the face of a short darkspawn, Alistair was behind and together with his shield and the hilt of her sword the thing's head was crushed into a bloody pulp.

Right... there was a large group coming up. Oh! They're close together! I reached out and directed the natural flow of lightning at them and it discharged in all of their close bodies, stunning them still. Daveth fired a volley of arrows at them while motionless and two went down before my stone fists screamed over the melee fighters and brought the one in heavy armour at the front down. Shiloh, Alistair and Jory made light work of the ones left and I switched to a more supportive role, sending out tendrils of numbing healing when I saw a blade nick too close to the skin. It wouldn't be good if someone went down due to me being inattentive to injuries in the midst of battle. Proper healing could happen after - but for the moment I hoped just not feeling wounds would be enough.

Argh! Oh Maker's sweaty balls! How did I not notice the darkspawn mage? Hey - it's tall and spindly like me! Not that the thought was comforting. I could still feel the pain of the spirit bolt coursing through my veins. Fuck, fuck, fuck... I need to concentrate. I'm not going to be any help unless I do. Right. Stone. I'll petrify the fucker where he stands. The earth responded to my desperate call and slid up it, solidifying into a hard casing. Good. Can't cast now can you?

Jory was flagging, his heartbeat erratic and I shot another numbing tendril at him before gathering a stone fist and hurling it over at the darkspawn mage, cracking it into pieces. Good. Bastard's dead and we're the only one with a mage on our side now. I felt for my satchel and pulled out a lyrium potion, chugging back a mouthful before stoppering it back up and chucking it back in my satchel. Right. Darkspawn - you're all going down.

The earth started shaking as it burst under the darkspawn feet and started sticking in globs to them, creating half cased tainted beasts and then fully motionless ones. "Nice job wizard!" Daveth wiped a hand over his brow and looked in shock to see the blood. Oh right - numbing.

"Healing anyone?" I brought down my rock armour and watched on as Shiloh, Jory and Alistair shattered the grotesque statue darkspawn with almost practiced efficiency. Daveth staggered forward to me, groaning and I raised a hand to his face, holding to his relatively unbloodied chin, the stubble scratching on my fingers as I let the healing aura flow to the gash on his forehead.

"Thanks. It was starting to sting a bit." Daveth breathed. Jory was up next and he shucked off a gauntlet clad hand so I could heal him that way. He didn't trust me much, but then again I did sort of expect that of most people when it comes to magic. Just touching the back of his hand I healed the forming bruises and lumps his thick plating had let him get, as well as the graze on his face - while I'm here.

Alistair - and I don't know how. Was unscathed. It must be his experience with fighting these things. "Shiloh? Do you need healing or are you alright?" I fought to school my expression as she scowled at me. Right - so she needed healing. That much was obvious - scowling means yes. "Head or hand?"

"Head." She snorted, flinching away as I neared. Oh yes. I must stink of bog mud. Then again. Everyone does. The whole place does. I rolled my eyes and stayed still with my hand held out.

"I'm not going to bite. Honest. I'll stand here all day if you're not going to get healed though." She huffed and moved to stand under my hand and I lowered it gently, bruises forming... the stitches are holding nicely. Just a few knocks. Ouch - her chain is broken and in her hip. "Do you think you could pull your chain out of the wound on your hip while I numb and heal? We can bandage at camp later but normal healing should be okay for the moment." She complied... strangely enough and I healed the jagged wound.

"Hey? Don't we need to get blood? This Blighter is bleeding enough right?" Daveth kicked the short darkspawn that had its head crushed.

"I'll fill the vials." Alistair offered. Nobody else wanted to do it obviously.

* * *

And so we were bathed in blood.

I don't mean that figuratively. I'm covering in a thin coating of blood, mud, stinking water and I'm pretty sure some as of yet undiscovered plant-life. I fall over much too often. It's the slippery ground and the fact I get knocked about in pitched fighting. I have bruises on my bruises. And then those bruises have some impressive shiners to boot.

I wish I'd brought more lyrium with me - I left a good amount in my medic tent. I shook off a bit of the dirt from my hand a placed it to my temple, willing away a little of the pain and re-forming my stressed blood vessels that had broken to make the bruises.

"Hey! Ain't that a tower?" Daveth called. I looked up and saw the ruinous thing in the mists. "Could it be the outpost?"

"There's darkspawn ahead though." Alistair huffed. He wiped a trail across his brow with a gloved hand.

"No point in standing around is there then shems?" Shiloh put a hand out and yanked... Holly?... from her scabbard and started marching ahead.

"That elf is going to kill us." Jory sucked in a deep breath.

"Aye." I groaned. "But she'll kill herself if... how many darkspawn are there Alistair?" The templar looked down at his hands and was muttering to himself before he answered.

"Twelve? Maybe fifteen?" Fuck. That's the most we've had to deal with in one group. And Shiloh is going head first into them.

"Move out the way. I'm going to show the darkspawn a few tricks!" I have balls of steel right now. I'm heading into a whole party of darkspawn.

You know what? I'm glad I'm so tall... that I have just long bloody legs. Shiloh was on her back, her greatsword almost held across her as she kicked out at the darkspawn looming over her. I just reacted and lightning seized the monster and he started frothing at the mouth before slumping over the lass, dead as a doornail and his skin cracked and bleeding. "Um... thanks." Shiloh shoved the creature off her. "Behind you!" Argh!

Fuck. Sword meet mage. Mage - meet sword. I felt the steel slicing into my side almost in slow motion, the pain almost an afterthought. Shiloh was off the floor in a flash and had the darkspawn gutted before I managed to reel my thoughts back. I was on the floor and could feel the inherent pulse of the earth beneath me.

Alistair and Jory were running headlong at the darkspawn, swords making sharp stabs and a shield deflecting a glancing blow. Concentrate... earth, _wield it like an extension of yourself lad _Irving's lessons were ringing in my ears as I grasped at that unruly magic and I tore huge mounds of it, hardening it into shards to rain down on the darkspawn that were approaching the two melee fighters.

A trio of arrows pierced expertly between the raining stone and landed directly in one of the monsters that had gone unnoticed. "Take that ya bastard!" I heard Daveth yell through my concentration of hitting darkspawn and not allies.

* * *

Fighting over, Alistair extended a hand to me and I gladly took it. Argh. I have mud in my wound on my side. I'm bleeding so much! I reached into my satchel and pulled out a wad of cloth, clasping it to my right-hand side, mopping up the most of it and wiping as much mud out as possible. I feel every little infection causing creature in it and fought into my pool of mana to cleanse them away. "Nobody distract me. I have to heal this or you won't have a mage anymore."

Silence ensued as I pulled the cloth away and I had to fight the urge to vomit when I saw the bones my own ribs. The flesh on my side was hanging off, exposing it all to the air, the robes on my right ripped ragged. I am going to need new robes. No amount of stitching and cleaning will fix these now.

I numbed my torso completely and it felt so much better. If it wasn't for the fact I knew it was bad I'd be unaware of the horrid wound. I held up the battered and dying flesh up to my ribs and focused on stopping the bleeding, melding the flesh back into place, the tingling of the magic working to force it back into one. It's going to scar... or at least not look anywhere as good as it did before. I'm no oil painting but it'll look worse.

I dared to take a look and was so shocked to see it just looked pink... as if I'd just been whacked. I've done too much healing - I'm getting better at it. I suppose that's a good thing but really - I'm going to become the resident healer out of all the Grey Wardens.

"We're at the ruin!" Daveth brought me out of my thoughts and I stared up at the crumbled tower.

"So we go in. Get the treaties and leave?" Shiloh walked into the ruin and we moved to follow her. Who'd have thought she was such a natural leader? Shiloh was already digging into mounds of rubble when we caught up and the three others started to help. Me? I used magic. What? Have I never mentioned my lack of physique? I'm a galvanist, stone, dirt, dust, lightning - all at my command. Heavy lifting? Not so much. And so I crushed the stones into fine dust and kicked it out of the way.

"Well well well, what have we here?" I tensed up and turned to the drawling voice. A woman? Well obviously from the voice - but still. "What are you doing here I wonder. I have watched as this group wandered aimlessly about my Wilds, slaughtering the darkspawn. And now-"

"Your Wilds?" Shiloh interrupted. "What makes these your Wilds?" Good point that.

"They are not yours and I live in them. Should I not own some place of which I live?" She snapped, her arms folding under her chest as she walked. Her... very exposed chest. Call me an old fashioned bugger but - wearing what looked to be little more that strategically placed rags and leather just screamed wrongness. It's far better to leave something to an overactive imagination, because upon succeeding in undressing a lass - the mind boggles at how badly the imagination compares. There's a thrill in a bit of mystery. I've obviously been around high-necked robes for far too long but it's my own opinion.

"But that is beside the point." She threw a hand casually into the air. "Now you have all come onto a tower long controlled by the natural forces. Picked clean by scavengers even longer ago." She stopped moving and leaned against a half-there pillar. "Are you scavengers like them? Or merely intruders whom so stumbled upon this tower?"

"Don't talk to her. She looks Chasind and that could mean there are more of them around." Alistair hissed at us all. Daveth's from a Chasind village isn't he?

"Oh!" She exclaimed, drawing upon her full height and staring at Alistair as if he were a piece of dog shit. "Do you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

"Yes - swooping is _bad_." Alistair mocked. I'm at a loss. I have no idea what is happening here.

"We're Grey Warden recruits." Shiloh answered the woman. "The Grey Wardens once owned this tower."

"And as you can see scowling elf... the tower is long gone - as I have just said. What really brings you all here?" Shiloh didn't like the 'scowling elf' comment. She looked ready to punch this woman clean out. We all looked at other - except Shiloh who was still glaring at the woman.

"We need some treaties that were once housed in this tower." I answered. The woman turned her attentions to me, casually walking past Shiloh as if she wasn't there.

"They are gone too." She sniffed.

"We really shouldn't be talking to her." Daveth finally spoke. "She's a Witch. A Witch of the Wilds!"

"And what if I am? Afraid of being turned into a toad fool?" An eyebrow was raised as she evaluated Daveth, looking at him as if he were a piece of meat to be inspected.

"I'm a wizard aren't I?" I smirked, to whit Daveth shot a narrow eyed look at me. He was the one who nicknamed me that. "Well... seeing as you're here. Do you know where they are lass?"

She smiled. Oh - that didn't look like a normal thing for her to do. "I do."

"You took them didn't you!" Alistair blurted. "You're some sort of sneaky witch-thief!"

"Really?" Shiloh glanced at Alistair, a dumbfounded expression on her face. "That is the cleverest thing you could have said isn't it?"

"Indeed. But if you think I a thief - you are sorely wrong." A chuckle escaped her throat. "_I_ did not take your treaties."

"Tell us who did or you'll be spitting metal Witch!" Shiloh was unsheathing Holly from her back as she spoke.

"Why should I trust anything of what you've said? I don't even know your names!" She harrumphed, moving with easy grace to a stone outcropping and out of the greatsword's tremendous reach.

"How should _we_?" Shiloh answered rhetorically. "We don't know yours."

"But you are the intruders. I bade you tell me first." We all looked at each other now. Who was going to speak to this 'witch'. "Come now, will it be the blond fool, the cowering fools, the scowling elf or the handsome self-appointed wizard?" What? Did I just get called handsome?

What does this woman want? I'm covered in mud, in ripped robes, bloody and most probably the worst state I've ever been in my life. I am not handsome now - and never have I thought of myself as such. In fact - I have never even been called handsome - even by Flora. It was 'you're not the worst looking man' from her. "Shiloh. Now tell me what you name is witch before you end up getting my sword in your gut."

"D-did... I just get called handsome?" I stuttered, completely unaware of pretty much anything else.

"Quite possibly. I forget." The witch sniffed at me. She changed to speak to the whole group. "You may call me Morrigan."

"Now tell us where these Blighted treaties are Morrigan - if that's your real name - so we can leave this place!" Shiloh growled.

"So angry. Fine. If you insist upon it - my mother has them." 'Morrigan' stared out to the expanses of Wilds that could be seen from her precarious place.

"Your mother?" Jory looked stunned.

"Yes - my mother. Did you think I birthed from a log perhaps?" 'Morrigan' pouted at Jory. He looked down at his feet, not wanting to answer.

"Could you take us to your mother Morrigan?" I asked. If this is a wild goose chase I'll zap this woman into nothing. But Duncan asked us to get these treaties and I don't feel like going back with nothing.

"I can." She drawled. "In fact - I shall. I like you. You have a sensible head on your shoulders." What? She's only just met me! I really don't have any sense in between my ears whatsoever!

"Be careful. First it's 'I like you'" Alistair put on a fake female voice for the 'I like you'. "But then it's zap! Frog time!" I groaned. Really - are we back to the frog talk? Mages can't do that!

"She'll put us in the pot. Just wait - we'll be stew for witches." Daveth shuddered.

"If the pot is warmer than this place - it'll be a damned improvement." Jory snapped at the rogue. Wow - someone just proved they're not as scared of mages as previously thought! I can see myself getting to like him if this keeps up!

"Two wilder women don't pose a threat to us. Five against two would be easy odds compared to the darkspawn." I reminded the other men of the group. Shiloh was walking just behind Morrigan, still holding Holly's hilt as if she'd gut this woman in a heartbeat but visibly taking in deep gulps of air as if to reign herself in. It's rather amusing to see her get so flustered. I must remind myself however - NEVER to make her flustered. I don't like my chances against Holly.

* * *

So now we're back in Ostagar in the recruit tent... I have clean robes - albeit - ones much too short and my boots are completely on show - as well as the tops of my shins. At least I still have my fluffy feathered pauldrons. I didn't learn Spirit Healing to be given plain robes! They're not green though. They're a bright red. I'm not a creationist! I'm a galvanist! I want green!

I sound like a petulant bairn in my own head. I stepped out from behind the changing screen and sat heavily into my cot and pulled out my journal. I'm writing about that healing I did on myself in the Wilds. I need to catalog everything properly, keep myself in check. I suppose that's why I have my journal, it helps me find that little bit of inner peace that I can't find elsewhere.

"Why do you sodders wear dresses?" Daveth was lounging on his cot, polishing up his bow from scuffs with a rag and oil.

"They aren't dresses!" I shook my head. "Robes. R. O. B. E. S. They're incredibly comfortable and loose clothing allows mages to gather the elements properly. We don't just use our hands and minds you know - it's a whole body thing."

"Wait." Daveth looked as if he were in deep thought - it must have been a new thing. "You mean you have a magical cock?"

Excuse me? What did he just say? "Daveth! That's disgusting!" Jory threw a boot at the laughing rogue.

"There is a lady in the tent!" I chucked my ripped and muddy robes at him. He's going to get a stone fist one of these days - right where the sun doesn't shine.

"Lady! I see no lady!" The aforementioned lady was laughing under her breath. "I've heard the word cock before." Shiloh looked up from her sharpening of Holly with a whetstone.

I think I blushed from head to toe - I just don't know what to say.

"I suppose seeing as the whole of me is magical-" Thankfully I was cut off by Alistair entering the tent and taking in my completely red form (robes and skin most probably looked very alike right now).

"Duncan says he's got the Joining Ritual ready. He wants you all in the temple. Come on." There were a few groans and muttered curses because some people hadn't finished polishing, sharpening or cleaning weaponry and armour but nevertheless four recruits filed out of the tent and followed Alistair. I managed to pick up my satchel - with my journal in it this time before leaving myself.

* * *

When did it get dark so suddenly? It's not exactly night but it is darkening. Huh, I didn't think we took that long in the tent, it was only late afternoon when we got back with the treaties. Shiloh was right behind Alistair in the file, followed by Daveth - not something that she sounded happy about from the 'keep your hands away lightfingers' that was coming from her general direction. Then myself and Jory trailing behind.

We came to an abrupt halt next to a stone table. "Anyone else thinking?" I tried. My mind was whirling. The main questions in my head were - firstly, what in the Maker's name is this ritual? And secondly, What sort of effect will it have? And Duncan's ominous words about 'some of us may have fate decide now rather than later'? He said that when we returned with the blood and treaties. It sounded deadly.

"I'm thinking of what it would be like to have a magical c-"

"Shut your mouth Daveth!" Jory half-shouted.

"It's rather good having a magi-"

"You too mage!" Okay then - no more joking. Jory doesn't look too healthy to be around at the moment.

"That's a jumpy shem if I've ever saw one." Shiloh snorted. I glanced over at her and noted that her left hand was twitching slightly.

"We're just lightening the atmosphere. An elf and mage are both less nervous than you." Daveth smirked at the knight.

"Oh I'm nervous. I'm just not shouting about it." I rolled my shoulders. I'm feeling tenser the longer I'm waiting. I felt the way everyone's heartbeats were getting faster, how we were all sweating.

Duncan strode through the grouping - holding a chalice? What the?

"And now we come to the Joining." The deep voice of the Warden Commander sounded and the heartbeats picked up. Why can't I turn this off? It's making me even more nervous now. I have a hammer going off against my ribs. "Just as the First Wardens stood against the First Blight, against the annihilation of all the known races - so we too, stand against the Fifth Blight."

Heartbeats just sped up more. "The First Wardens took into themselves the darkspawn taint and so mastered it - gaining the advantage needed in killing an Archdemon, just as the four of you shall." So we take the taint into ourselves... we drink it? That seems easy enough but something feels off. "Alistair - if you would?" The Warden bowed his head and closed his eyes.

"Join us, brothers and sisters." His voice lacked the small joy it usually held. "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you." Ah... we could die. That's what Duncan meant. That's why I felt so off. I could die in the next few minutes. I set my jaw and tried not to pay attention to the heartbeats thumping around me. I failed.

Heartbeats up more. The sweat in the cold air is palatable. "Step forward Daveth." I watched as the rogue I'd know for a week stepped up and Duncan passed him the chalice in his hands.

"I'll see you all soon." Daveth winked at Shiloh and she glared at him. He took the chalice and drank deeply, handing it back casually to Duncan.

I felt it when his body temperature spiked, when he fell to his knees and the pain was radiating off him in waves. His heart was hammering faster and faster and he was groaning, his hand clutching to his head. Then his heart stopped and he slumped forward.

"Fuck." My own heart was almost at the same level Daveth's was when he... died. He didn't deserve such a death. Maker... he was alive, he was fighting darkspawn alongside us less than an hour ago, cracking jokes not ten minutes ago. Dead.

"I am sorry Daveth." Duncan moved forward and closed the rogue's eyes, taking in a deep breath as he did so. "Jory. Step forward."

"No!" I whipped my head to see Jory draw his greatsword out. "I have a wife, a child on the way! I would never have signed up for this had I known!" Duncan passed the chalice to Alistair and pulled out his two daggers. Jory threw all his weight down at Duncan in his sword but Duncan moved too quickly for the blow to land. He moved in front of the greatsword's range and kept close to the knight.

Then a dagger went up into the relatively unarmored armpit and twisted down... straight into his heart. Another heartbeat gone. Just me... and Shiloh now. "I am sorry Jory." Duncan pulled his dagger out and controlled the descent of the knight to the stone floor. Alistair handed back the chalice and Duncan wiped his brow of some blood before taking it.

Jory's blood. Maker... I didn't sign up for this either. But... I am a dead man. Dead if I ever go back to the tower, dead if I run... possibly dead if I drink. "William. Step forward." Oh - I just knew I'd be next.

Heartbeat... singular... sped up. My own had slowed. I felt - oddly calm about this. I'm dead anyway. Dead in so many ways. This is my only chance at life really. I really must have balls of steel with the amount of possible death I've had recently. I must check on them to see if they're shiny. If I live that is. I took the chalice into my hands and saw almost from a different perspective the way the... blood... in it was quivering. I took a breath in. It could be my last. Dog shit and death. Blood. I didn't regret it. Possibly my last breath of freedom. My last breath...

I lifted the chalice up. Damned sensitive nose. I wanted to gag - to heave my stomach contents up. I took a mouthful and winced as I swallowed it down. I feel - woozy. I handed it back and my heart was speeding up again. It's threatening to break my ribs. My temperature is soaring. My skin clamming. I'm dying.

I'm dying. The pain came next - like I'd had liquid fire pouring into my veins and clouding into my brain. The stone floor was coming at me at an alarming rate...

* * *

The dragon... it's calling, singing. It's so damn beautiful. There's no pain. No sound yet. I'm dead. Why is there a dragon in the afterlife?

All around me is aflame but it doesn't seem to bother me. It's a battlefield, dark except for the flames. I'm walking toward the dragon and it's looking at me. I'm in the Fade. I can feel it. Dead. I must be dead. The sound around me is slowly filtering back.

Was that... that's my father! In the full Amell tartan - with kilt! His bow on his back and the bagpipes of the Starkhaven infantry tucked under his arms.

"Laddie!" He squatted down and patted me on the head. I'm... short? I looked down to my hands and saw their small size. I'm... a child? "I've been looking for you everywhere!" So he's dead too? The dragon was rearing up behind the image of my father, his scales looked black and rotten and we were bathed in purple flames.

Now I felt the pain course through me again. I'm panting for breath, my head is throbbing and I feel like my entire body is a burnt husk.

* * *

Hesitantly I managed to open my eyes. The burning still feels like it's there. My robes are sticking to my skin and the stone beneath me feels so fucking good. Wait - stone?

"I'm... alive?" Duncan was leaning over me - as was Alistair. Three heartbeats nearby. Three. Four including my own.

"Did you have any dreams?" Huh? Alistair asked that. I should... answer. What I saw was weird.

"Aye. My father... and a dragon. Flames. Purple flames. It was worse than the Harrowing!" It was. Much worse. I'd never felt so helpless. Now I feel... stronger? I feel, like I... have more power?

"Such dreams come to us all." Duncan left my side and moved to my right. I lifted on my elbows and saw Shiloh battling for breath, her brow furrowing and her hands curled into fists. I looked around and saw the pyre with the two people I'd known for a week burning upon it. I can't help it - I feel terrible about their deaths. One was unavoidable but the other wasn't.

"Here." Alistair handed me a pendant - with a red dot in the center like a bead. It's thrumming. Blood? "This is known as 'The Warden's Oath' - it reminds us of our duty. It keeps our vows close to our hearts." Understandable but I can't quite imagine forgetting that anytime soon.

"Fuck!" Shiloh shot up from the ground and lashed out. Duncan caught her fist and her eyes widened. She survived too... like me. I wonder what made us survive and not Daveth? Would Jory have lived had he done as we all had? All the other recruits were more healthy than me - by a long shot. More vital, muscular. I just had magic and mana - a fair amount of both mind you - but not much of anything else. "I... I saw a dragon!"

"I did too. Did it kill both you and your father? I... saw my father." I fought the instinct in me to mention it but I did. "I think he's dead."

"I saw Mamae." Shiloh breathed, picking herself up from the ground and groaning when she saw Holly on the floor - with a new scratch on the scabbard.

"Were we dead?" I managed to stand up and dusted as much of the dirt from my red robes. I hate red. It looks like I do creation magic. I do not.

"We die. Then rise up from the flames of death - mastering the taint." Duncan picked up the chalice and looked at the contents. "I have a meeting with the King. I'll return in a short while."

"I've already given William his. So here." Alistair handed one of the 'Oaths' to Shiloh. "It's a Warden Oath. It contains a drop of Archdemon blood. That dragon you saw." Nice Alistair - you could have said that to me as well. Rather than leaving me to collaborate the ideas together with what I could.

"Hey lass... do you feel any different? I feel... like I've been meditating. We have to do that in the tower to expand our mana pool." Shiloh looked at me - as if weighing up my words.

"I do feel... Stronger. Healthier." Well healthier is good. "Holly feels lighter than she used to."

"May I try healing you?" I ventured. I need to check something. She nodded neared me, using her eyes to gesture at the top of her head. I put out a hand and summoned a healing aura. It came to me much quicker and infused into my being so much more totally. Shiloh's wound on her hip... the gash I stitched. They're - completely healed. As if they've never even been there. "You're fitter than anyone I've ever healed save Alistair, Gregor and Duncan."

That finally stamped it in my brain. "Being a Grey Warden is more than that ritual. We become the ultimate darkspawn killing machines." Alistair spoke. I have to write this in my journal - just the bit about expanded vitality, mana pool and everything else that seems to have changed. It's too interesting to no make note of.


	6. (Musicalrain) The Bloodied

Author note: Hello again! We're almost at the 'meat' of the game! A little bit off though, but still! I hope you'll like this chapter, as it was fun and challenging to write all the action. ;) Be sure to give Apollo kind words, because she's the reason for all this story's quick progress! Again, we'd love any and all feedback! Feel free to review or PM either of us! :D - Musicalrain

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

This is really weird. Really, really weird. But awesome! I feel so much different. I like it! And the mage, he healed everything – and I felt it as he did it. He seems really pleased with himself, if the big grin spanning over his entire face is any clue.

"You're fitter than anyone I've ever healed save Alistair, Gregor and Duncan." He tells me happily. Well that's something. I still like it!

I smirk back, the mage's happiness is infectious, but turn to Alistair once he speaks, "Being a Grey Warden is more than that ritual. We become the ultimate darkspawn killing machines." So... I'm changed now, permanently? Is that why the Joining is so dangerous? Not everyone can take to the change?

I feel my gaze look over towards the pyre burning the bodies of half of the recruits. That was sodding horrible that they both died. I didn't even like either of them much, but I don't think they deserved death. But then, does anyone _really _deserve it? Maybe if you're a flaming arse-face murdering rapist like Vaughan and his men, but those two... no, I don't think they did. One was a bit of a coward and lacking in soldiery, the other an overly confident cutpurse that chases too many skirts. They weren't murders or rapists. They were just shem. Shem with the intention of killing darkspawn. Shem that wanted to see to the creatures' ends.

I've never been the religious type, Father more than anyone in our house, but I did... pray a little during the Joining. I was so nervous that I didn't know what to do with myself. Me! Not knowing what to do! I was afraid, I really was. I didn't like that feeling. Not. At. All. I owe the Maker, Andraste, or whomever a load of thanks.

I tare my gaze away from the pyre, and look to Alistair as I ask, "Did they get the prayer for the departed?" If I died, I'd like to think those words were said for me. I said them for Mamae.

Alistair blinks at me in confusion and perhaps a little shock at my question. I can feel those brow wrinkles coming back. What? Is my concern over two dead shems so surprising? Wait... maybe it is. "Yes," he says with an inflection indicating his confusion. "I said them myself."

I nod. I can't talk to him right now, as I don't know what I would say. Congratulations on saying a prayer?

"Hey lassie," I look to the mage, and he's practically bouncing on his feet. "Do you want to go to the training grounds and see what else our newfound abilities allow us to do?"

I shrug. It's a little dark out, but it sounds better than staring at a burning pyre, or discussing prayers with Alistair. There's enough torches that we can see what we're doing. "Sure."

* * *

Alistair returns to the training grounds roughly a half hour, and half a dozen destroyed straw dummies, later to fetch us to meet with Duncan. Apparently during the conference Duncan attended, they discussed where to place the Wardens in the next battle. I really want to know where I'll be. I hope it's near Duncan and the others, and I won't be placed with strange shem that I'd want to hit for them being perverts or racists, or something.

Duncan acknowledges us with a quick nod of his head when we approach, and gets right to it, "I have your assignments for your placements in the upcoming battle. We have overwhelming evidence that the darkspawn will attack tonight, and we have no reason to believe otherwise." He looks towards me, "Shiloh, you will be on the front lines aiding the cavalry just to the west of the position of myself and the King. It is a crucial position, as the other Wardens will be stationed to the troops expanding far to the east and near King Cailan, and there will be no mages stationed there in support."

"What do you mean there will be no mages stationed at that position?" William (did I just refer to him by name?) interrupts Duncan. "Am I not to be placed near there?"

Duncan furrows his brows and looks to the healer, "No. The King has asked for our forces to light the signal beacon atop the tower of Ishal to signal Teryn Loghain and his Calvary's attack to flank the horde." His gaze briefly travels to Alistair. "You and Alistair are assigned to this task."

"What?!" both men exclaim at the same time. I'd be unhappy with that news too. Then again, I'm not too pleased to hear that I'll be the only Warden to support troops with no real defense other than their own capabilities. I'll be damned if I don't do what I can, but mages are nice to have in a battle. I learned that while in the Wilds. Magic is most helpful.

Alistair spits his words out faster than William can. "I won't be on the front lines with you?"

Duncan shakes his head, "The King asked for you to be assigned this personally."

I see Alistair's face pinch and harden in response to Duncan's words. The healer speaks up given the opportunity, "Although I normally tend to hate healing unless it's absolutely necessary, surely another mage on the field, so close to the King, would be in the best interest of everyone? I'd rather heal than stand around doing nothing while people are getting hacked at by darkspawn."

I can see Duncan fight a sigh. I'm guessing he knew the two men wouldn't take well to their assignments. "It seems that you do not have enough experience as a Warden to warrant the Chantry's acceptance as a strategic ally in this battle. They've insisted, rather harshly, that no more mages are added to our ground troops. They do not want any magi near the King in fear of those turning to abomination or blood magic. I'm afraid that due to the circumstances, I have to concede to their wishes."

"Well that's bloody wonderful, isn't it?" He crosses his arms over his chest stubbornly. "I'm not even of the Circle anymore, and I've proven my worth. How many sods have I healed in their stead? And now I wonder how many I'll have to heal after due to their negligence."

Duncan looses that sigh that's been building up, reaches down to a stack of scrolls as he ignores William's comments, and hands the three of them to William, "I've looked over the treaties, and have decided to ensure them in your care; should the darkspawn breach our forces and invade the encampment. Given your... position in the Tower, they should be safe in your hands." After the mage secures them in his satchel, Duncan continues, "Take a few moments to compose yourselves. I must speak to the other Wardens, and then it should be time to head to the field."

I hear the mage mumble under his breath as Duncan walks away, "Time for you to go to the field."

I turn to the other two shem Wardens to see Alistair rake a hand through his hair. "We can't exactly go against Duncan's orders, right?" He groans. "This is bloody wonderful."

"You're telling me," the mage grumbles. "We are assigned to do something so mundane, that anyone can do, while there will be people fighting just beside us, and we can't aid them."

"I'm going to be by myself." I feel my eyes widen. Why did I just say that? Why do I care if I'll be with these shem? I quickly look to the ground, and reign in my embarrassment. "I'm sure we'll all be fine. We'll kick darkspawn arse."

"Oh, I know you can lass." I look towards William, and his cheeks are tinged pink. "I mean, kick darkspawn arse. I'm sure you can handle it. The fighting. And – and if you need healing after, you know where to go."

I nod to him. Strange shem mage. "Well," Alistair begins, "I guess we should prepare."

* * *

Quicker than I would've thought, Duncan came to fetch me for the battle. It was... strange being there, in that tent, without the other two shem. I think it really hit the other two Wardens, Jory and Daveth, were gone. We sat in there seeing their cots and things still where they last left them. But Duncan came and got me, and I'm a Warden now and it's time for me to help these humans fight these darkspawn. I'd smack myself if I'd let today's events shake my resolve. I'll show these shems just what an elf can do in battle!

"Wait! Shiloh!" Huh? I turn around from beside Duncan, just a few steps away from the tent I've been using for a whole day – to see William rushing towards me. It's actually a fairly amusing sight, since he's still wearing those too short robes. Guy's got legs. He's also as hyper as a raccoon that's broken into the pantry. He's been a little animated since the Joining. Just a little. He shoves a full pouch into my hands, "Here's some health poultices and bandages, just in case something unfortunate should... happen."

"Uh... thanks." That's... nice I guess. Oh! Where's my manners? Practically nonexistent! Let's see... What does someone say in such a situation? "Good luck out there."

He laughs and waves a hand dismissively, "I should be wishing you luck lass." He looks to Duncan almost as an afterthought, "And to you too Commander."

"And you as well, William. You and Alistair should head off to the bridge after the battle begins. Alistair knows what signal to look for when the time comes."

We start walking again, and I tie the drawstrings of the pouch to my belt. Duncan has pouches decorating the entirety of his belt, and he's probably much more prepared than any of us. That was... thoughtful of the mage, I guess. I feel a few drops of water hitting my head, and look up to see storm clouds have gathered in the full moon's light. Awesome. Rain. Rain just makes fighting so much _easier_. And _fun,_ you know.

We walk down to the battlefield, and pass more shem than I can count, when a man with a gigantic beard stops us at the calvary's head. How does he care for that thing? And how the Void does it not get in the way during battle? "Aye, Commander. The others are all in position."

Duncan clasps the man's extended forearm, "Thank you Gregor." He motions towards me, "I don't believe you've met our newest Warden sister, Shiloh Tabris." 'Sister'? Wardens treat each other as family then? Huh.

"No, can't say I have." He extends the same arm to me and we shake. Man's got a grip, but he seems pleased with mine. "Tough girly, aren't ya? Well good. You'll need that strength."

Duncan looks at me, "This is the unit assigned to your protection, Shiloh. Choose your place amongst them, and use your talents to their benefit. May the Maker watch over you."

I nod and answer in kind, "May the Maker watch over us all," and the other two walk away. Holy sodding shit! If you would have asked me a week ago if I thought I was going to head a calvary unit of shems at a battle against darkspawn, I would've told you you've gone flaming mad. But here I am, and I have to wonder why they would put a green Warden on the front lines. Well, Duncan seems to think that I can handle it. I'll show them I can. These Blighted darkspawn will die at my blade!

I walk down the line, and see a woman with a stamped heraldry across her chestplate, a sword and shield on her back, and positioned at about the line's center. Is she the commanding officer then? I walk up to the brown-haired woman and ask, "You head these men?"

She nods, "First officer Natalie Hawke, but you can call me Hawke. You're the Grey Warden to help us?" she asks with a raised brow.

"Yes, I'm Warden Shiloh Tabris." Politeness! See!

"Well," she points just over my shoulder, and I turn in that direction to see the glow of the approaching enemy's torches at the very edge of my vision through the continual patter of rain. "I think we should ready for battle." She continues louder to her men, "At arms!"

I move to stand beside this 'Hawke' woman, and there's a collective sound of metal on metal as everyone draws their weapons. I remove Holly from the scabbard on my back, to hear the distinctive voice of the woman beside me. "Greatsword?"

Seriously? Darkspawn are approaching, and you want to chit-chat? What is with humans and idle talk? I just nod, and she says, "Same with my brother. He's a few lines back." She nods her head in that direction and her shortly cropped hair barely moves. She nudges me with the elbow of her shield arm. Another shem with boundary issues. Great. "Let's just hope you're a little better than he is at using it," she winks.

I purse my lips together, and move my gaze away from the officer to the approaching horde, "I'm sure I'm much better."

She barks a laugh and announces to her troops, "Men! Let's send these creatures back to the Void they came from!"

There's cheers all around, but as the humans share in camaraderie, I see the darkspawn fast approaching, and... I can _feel _them. When I had first awoken, I felt a faintly warm buzzing feeling thrumming in my veins. But now, around humans and with darkspawn approaching, the warmth has turned to ice, and the buzzing more electric. I-I can feel the darkspawn. Another Grey Warden ability? Might have been nice to know about beforehand.

"Hawke," I address the woman beside me, "The darkspawn are minutes away."

She looks down towards me, "I'll trust the expert. We're to rush once signaled."

A horn sounds, and I see the shems around me straighten out of the corners of my eyes. A horse charges by with the rider holding a flag of the King's colors and heraldry blowing the horn. Our signal to charge. I run, Holly held firmly in my grasp, and as we near the beasts the electric buzzing in my veins increases to a nearly overwhelming storm that sets flame to my undying hatred for these creatures – these _things _that I am now bound to kill for the rest of my days. Until I can no longer draw breath. These sodding creations of the Maker's ire. I will see their end! I will prove my worth as a Warden, my worth to be stationed here with the trust to protect these shems.

My anger, adrenaline, and eagerness for battle mixes with the buzz and speeds my approach to the darkspawn. Despite being a good head shorter than the unit's officer, I have already impaled and thrust Holly up and through the first genlock before Hawke has even neared my position. I see her bash her shield into the head of one of the shorter darkspawn, and slice her sword through its neck as it's stunned. There's a hurlock nearing my position, and I can sense it's approach by the fluctuations in the thrum in my blood. I turn, sweeping Holly low to cut deep into it's thigh, severing the critical artery there only to be sprayed by the black ichor of the beast's blood. It growls in pain, and I narrowly avoid its retaliation, getting the side of my forehead cut by its tainted blade. The pain fuels my ever building anger, and I swing Holly back with my own growl. "Take this!" I scream as I slice deep into the bastard's side. I turn Holly upwards on the withdraw, brutalizing the wound further. It falls to the ground, only to be ended by the tip of Holly in its neck.

I sense something in the thrum, a nearly stinging sensation, and turn towards the feeling's direction, only to see a hurlock alpha – its brass-colored horned helmet a dead giveaway as it mows down men with ease. The first time I faced one of these in the Wilds, it took both our ranged fighters and both me and Alistair's blades to destroy it. There's no mage or archer nearby – this is a purely combat unit. I growl and look for my only ally I know by name. I spot her brown hair and large round shield just a few paces away. I cannot fight this creature on my own. I run to her.

"Hawke!" I yell, only to see both her and a raven haired man with a greatsword beside her turn towards me (her brother?).

"What is it Warden?" she asks between pants.

"A darkspawn alpha – one of their leaders. I cannot take the sodder on my own. I suggest we work together. And quickly!" I yell the last, as I turn and behead a genlock I felt sneaking behind me with a thorough thrust of Holly.

"Fucking darkspawn! I'll kill you all!" So very much snarling.

"Warden!" I snap my head back to the officer, "You have both my blade, and my brother's."

"Good," I nod and hurry to speak as quick as I can. Maker, think of a plan woman! "I need someone to charge it with me, and another to flank once it's attention is drawn. I don't care who, but we need to get to it before it kills too many people!"

"Carver will charge, I'll flank."

I nod briskly and run towards the alpha, not checking to see if Natalie and Carver are following. A few paces out, I dodge a darkspawn's dagger and retaliate with a quick smash to the face with my pommel only to have the officer's brother gut it for me. We run together towards the alpha, and I yell to draw its attention to us,

"Hey Blighter! Why don't you try a Grey Warden!"

It sees us, drawing up its own massive greatsword, and bending its head before it charges to meet us. Big fucking sodder! We'll still kill it all the same!

I hold my ground, and meet its blade with my own, a hit so strong it sends tingling shockwaves up my arms. I ignore the pain, focusing on my _need _to kill this creature and I adjust my footing, pushing back with as much strength as I can muster. The creature's stance only gives a little. It's a strong Blighter. The officer's brother cuts into the space between its upper arm's armor, and it decides to face him instead of me, as neither is gaining nor loosing much in our stalemate. Carver gets cut deeply into the forearm by the beast's blade, and I take the opportunity to lunge forward to hit the thick plate at its side with the hopes of at least cracking a few ribs. It snarls with its disgusting spittle flying from its mouth, and retaliates with its own hit to my side. I feel the chain dig and cut into my skin through my tunic, a rib or two fracturing from the impact. Where's Hawke?

I sweep low, using my lack of height to my advantage, and critically injure its knee. It staggers, and manages to hit the flat of its blade on my hand as I side-step in an attempt to avoid its next attack, crushing at least three fingers and damaging my strong grip. Hawke appears from behind it with her blade held high, and pierces it as hard as she can between its shoulders. It yells and turns towards her, only to have two greatswords thrust into its relatively unprotected under arm. I point Holly downwards as I pull her out only part way to thrust in again, down into its armpit and body cavity as far as I can, bringing it to its knees. Natalie swings her blade across its long neck, draining its blood and ensuring its death.

I fumble with the pouch William had given me earlier, as shaky as I am from the adrenaline and rage burning in my veins (darkspawn piss me off!), and toss it to the officer's brother. His rips the stopper out with his teeth and pours it messily onto the gushing wound on his arm. It's a wonder he managed to lift his blade again after that hit.

"Warden," Hawke addresses me after wiping her brow of sweat. "Stick with me and my brother, eh? We'll clean through these quicker together."

I nod, and once her brother crushes the empty poultice's vial under his boot, we move off together towards a group of genlocks and hurlocks.

* * *

Later, after various stab wounds, fractures, and most probably a broken jaw between us – the three of us meet up with Hawke's second in a small clearing as we attempt to catch our breaths. This is fucking wearing!

"Gavin," she addresses the man, "How many men is our unit down?"

He sighs and rubs at his forehead, "At least three dozen – likely more."

"That's well over half of our men!" she exclaims.

"It will be more if this keeps up," he replies sharply.

"Where's the Gwaren troops, why haven't they been signaled to charge yet?" Her brother asks to no one in particular. Good question, that.

I shake my head. Something must be wrong at the tower. William and Alistair wouldn't forget their duty. They're Wardens dammit! "I don't know," I reply with a tired grumble. Rage and adrenaline can only sustain for so long, unfortunately.

"Warden," the brunette steps towards me. "You know the darkspawn, right?" Well I guess that's one way to ask about the weird sensing ability.

I reply simply, "Yes."

"How many would you say are left?" she asks. The way she's crossing her arms and standing – she's _very _agitated. I am too.

I furrow my brow and attempt to make sense of the buzzing thrum in veins, so I can answer her. Or try to. "Way too sodding many to count." I feel the cold buzz extending in all directions.

"Maker's flaming..." the officer trails off.

"Wait!" I exclaim suddenly, and my body goes rigid. The thrum suddenly _burns_. That can't be good. I look in the direction the painful burning sensation seems to be directed in my veins, and see a _huge _fucking darkspawn. My mother told a story once about one of those that nearly killed an entire troop of Wardens, before she and Duncan managed to kill it on their last leg – an ogre!

"Andraste," I hear Carver whisper. Prayer's not going to help here, shem. We look on nearly mesmerized to see the ogre charging... it's charging towards a familiar warm thrum – towards Duncan and Cailan! Sodding shit!

"It's running straight for the Commander and the King!" I yell, "We have to help them!" I pull Holly out of the ground where I was leaning against her and start running with her held as firmly as I can in my grasp. I don't bother to see if the shems are following. My rage and strength have returned in full force – that sodding fucker better not hurt my mother's friend! There's a sea of darkspawn between me and Duncan's thrum. I have to dodge far too many blades and pommels, and can't help to stop and kill a few of the more stubborn Blighters in my path. Let me pass arses!

"We're with you Warden," I briefly turn to see Natalie and the two other human men meeting the sea of enemies between us and our leaders with their blades – just as I am.

I get bashed in the shoulder with a small wooden shield, and stab the fucker straight through the chest with Holly. Suddenly I hear a guttural roar, and we all look up to see the ogre with his meaty hand around a golden armor clad figure with fair hair – the King.

"Maker no!" Natalie screams from beside me as loud as she can.

We all watch on with varying degrees of horror, as far too quickly the ogre squeezes the King's form until his hand is dripping red, and then tosses his limp body aside without so much as a second glance.

The King is dead.

I see lines of red seeping into the corners of my vision, my body tenses, the pain and sting of my injuries fading into the back of my mind, and I'm pretty certain I growled – loudly. These darkspawn will die! They will feel death! I may be an elf, hatred of shems ingrained from birth, but I'm also Ferelden – and that was just my King!

I fight viciously, not even completely conscious of my actions, as I battle with the darkspawn grunts to get to Duncan. The ogre still lives, and he must die. I break through the line of 'spawn in time to see Duncan jump onto the ogre's chest, piercing it repeatedly with his daggers, and up into its neck. The ogre falls, and I rush to Duncan as he's roughly swung off the dying beast.

"Commander," I pant and kneel beside him. I hear footsteps come up, and turn to see Natalie and her brother briefly see to the slain King's form – there's nothing that can be done.

Duncan struggles to sit up and clutches his chest with one arm, both his daggers still firmly in his grasp. He's a right sight, but I'm more than happy to see him. "Shiloh, you still live."

I nod, "I'm beat up, but I'm still here."

Natalie and Carver walk up, and she speaks to Duncan, "You're the Warden Commander?" she questions, and at his nod asks, "What do we do now?" I notice her second isn't around, and I can only assume he didn't make the push. All these deaths... Where the sodding fuck is Loghain?!

As if in answer to my silent question, we hear cheers sound all around us and look up to see the beacon at the Tower of Ishal is finally lit. About Blighted damned time! I follow Duncan's gaze to Gwaren's troops hidden deep into the woods, and see... them retreat! A calvary of at least four-hundred men, who haven't seen a lick of battle the entire night – are retreating! What the sodding fuck is Loghain doing?! Is he insane?!

"Shiloh. Calm yourself," I really must quit cursing aloud without realizing. I turn to look to Duncan, and help him to stand. He's far more beat up than me, and judging by the bodies, these troops have seen more battle. It's almost as if the darkspawn knew the King and Commander were here, and directed the horde in this direction. He shakes his head sadly, and looks to the continual fighting surrounding us. A man must fall nearly every second. "Ostagar is lost," he says with an eerie calmness.

"No!" I nearly shout. "We can still fight them!"

"No, Shiloh," Duncan says with a resounding finality. "The darkspawn have won this battle." he puts a heavy dagger-holding hand on my armored shoulder. "The Wardens are nearly defeated. We're flagging. We're almost lost."

"No, no," I shake my head. What is he saying? This can't be! "If even one of us still lives, we still have a chance!" I won't give up this easily! We're not helpless! We're Grey Wardens! This is my first sight of war, yes, but we can't lose to these flaming beasts! I didn't lose to Vaughan – and I won't lose against the 'spawn! They just killed our King! They deserve to die!

He smiles sadly, "That is what I'm counting on you Shiloh. Go – live. The Blight must end. One of us must live. We need Wardens to end this Blight. We need more than what we have here."

"What?!" I exclaim. "Duncan, I'm not leaving you here!"

He nudges my shoulder, "I will try to stave off as many of the beasts I can as you flee. My time has come."

"No! Duncan!" Natalie comes and grabs hold of one of my arms from behind.

She says to Duncan, "My brother and I will make sure she lives, Ser."

He nods, "Thank you, my Lady." He meets my stern glare with a soft sadness, "Your mother would have been proud of you Shiloh. You will be a great Warden, of that I am certain. May the Maker guide you." He turns heel and runs straight for a charging group of darkspawn, and I struggle against the officer's grip to follow my Commander into battle.

"Warden," she says sternly. "Follow your Commander's orders. Let's go."

* * *

Maker, I left him. I left them all. I'm following the Hawke siblings as we attempt to fight through the horde, and into the relative safety of the woods. They say they'll take me to Lothering – to their home, and from there I can decide what to do. Maker, what _do _I _do_?

I bash the face in of a genlock I tackled with Holly's pommel repeatedly. We're beneath the Tower of Ishal now. Did William and Alistair survive? Am I the only one left? There's far more darkspawn than humans on the field now. The horde is endless, as endless as this sodding night! Why the fuck did I listen to him!? Why did I leave?!

I growl and shout, "Sodding Void! I hate you all!" and I continue to beat the darkspawn relentlessly.

Natalie puts a hand on my shoulder and shakes me a little. "Warden! We're at the forest! We have to leave!"

I look down at the darkspawn I've been pounding, its face is little more than a gooey pulp now. Not a good time to lose my shit. I stand quickly and turn Holly about in my grasp. "Well, let's go then!" I shout. I'm fucking flaming tired of this! If I see anymore darkspawn, I may just catch flame. I'm fairly certain I'm only running on anger and the last dregs of my stamina right now. If I stop, I'll fall. And that's not happening.

I holster Holly and take off at a brisk run into the thick woods. The humans catch up to me, and for that I'm glad, as I have no idea where the Void Lothering is – is it that little village Duncan and I passed through on our way here? Sodding shit! I'm thinking about Duncan! Let's just focus on running.

I suddenly hear an ear piercing squall, and look up to see... is that a gigantic bird?!

"What the Blight is that?" Carver asks. Wait. When did we stop running?

"I don't know," his sister says. "But I doubt it can be good. Let's go!" I'd have to agree, we start running in earnest now. Let's just hope the bird isn't hungry, yes?

* * *

We run, and keep running until light starts flitting in between the trees. Well it seems that horrid night did end. Only to give way to a new horrid day! Yay!

"I can't... run anymore," Natalie pants. I stop my jog, and turn to see her standing on the beaten path we found a little bit ago with her hands clutched to her knees and she's gasping for breath. Carver looks just about as worn out, but it doesn't seem he's inclined to agree with his sister. Oh, right. Special Warden abilities. Apparently we don't tire as quick.

"We can take a break," I concede. We've already taken two, but I don't really want to stop. We're all sweaty, bloody and beaten though. There's only so much the body can handle, I remind myself. Maybe I should take the shems into account more. They've both been nothing but helpful, and are quite able. They... somewhat saved me too. Not that I cared for it. I still don't really care for it. I belonged in that fight. That's why Duncan saved me from hanging, right? To fight the darkspawn there.

Uh-oh. I feel a cold buzzing thrum. "Hey, Hawkes." They both look to me, "Darkspawn are approaching! Take arms!"

They wearily grab their weapons, but as I'm taking Holly into my hands, I see a brown blur dash from the trees and tackle the darkspawn at the head of this group. The Void? I run forward, gutting the one making for the brown figure. It's mabari! The Hawkes are slow to approach, as tired as they are, and by the time they do there's only one darkspawn left from the mabari's and my own efforts.

The mabari turns to me, bloodied muzzle and an assortment of scratches along his coat. I bend down to his level and happily extend a hand. He licks it after loosing a pleased bark.

"That's a mabari," I hear Carver say from beside me.

"Of course it is brother," Natalie replies. "What else could it be?"

I study the mabari as I'm now petting his head. "Hey," I say to the other two. "I think I know him. He has the same markings and face as this one I helped before the battle."

"Really?" I see Natalie come into my line of vision. "I have a mabari back home, I couldn't bring him when I left for the army." She pauses to pet the war dog too, and he lets her. "They choose their master, did you know that? They imprint on a single person, and are bound to that person for as long as they or their master lives."

I furrow my brow. What is she trying to say? "So... Are you saying that this mabari has... imprinted on me?" I look at her with my confusion plain on my face. I vaguely realize that it's probably odd that two women are petting a gore-covered dog amongst vile darkspawn corpses. We're not your typical women, obviously.

The mabari barks, and I look to him as Natalie chuckles. "They're very smart too! And I think he's saying that he has."

"Huh." I look at the mabari with a slightly tilted head, and he tilts his too. "So... you're my mabari now?" He barks again, and I can't help but grin. I have a mabari! One good thing out of this mess. I'm glad he survived at least.

"What are you going to name him?" Natalie asks.

I stand up, and so does the mabari. "Ward, for Warden."

* * *

We decide to walk the rest of the path to the village. We come across an old stone bridge of the Imperial highway, and Natalie and Carver tell me that after crossing over it, we're right at the village and then a quick jaunt through it to their farmstead.

There's a group of men standing at the broken end of it, and they come into our path as we pass them. The one at the front with hair as oily as his voice says, "Well, well, well. What do we have here? More poor sots fleeing the darkspawn?"

"What?" I bark at them. "Let us pass!" What are they playing at?

"Them don't look like the others," one of the oafs at the back says. "Them's still look ready ta fight."

"Come now my friend," the leader says, "They're just soldiers tired of seeing darkspawn, yes? We keep this here bridge free of them, and in return for our services we charge... a toll. A generous donation of fifty silver each is all it'll take to ensure you remain darkspawn free."

I look around, not a single darkspawn corpse lays here, and we haven't seen any 'spawn since Ward helped us kill that last group. They've yet to reach anywhere near this village. "It doesn't look like you fight darkspawn," I say to them. "I think you're full of flaming shit!"

The leader grimaces. "We offer a service. Pay up, and we won't have to hurt you."

I raise a brow, "Really now? You'd kill us for our coin?" I snarl. "You're bandits!" I put my hand on Holly's hilt. "You want battle? You'll see it!"

I unsheathe Holly quickly, and cut the leader clean through the neck before he can move to attack me with his twin daggers. I love the new boost to my agility. I wonder how many people they've scammed? I wonder how many people they've hurt for coin? Well this ends here!

Ward dashes forward and takes down the one archer that was aiming for my head, and I turn to meet the blade of the big oaf. His battleaxe is heavy, I'll give him that, but his technique is terrible. I cut deeply into his scantily armored arm when he misses with a wide downward swing. He cries out in pain, and then I point Holly upwards to silence his cry with my blade pushed up through his chin and into his skull. He falls to his knees just before death takes him.

As I remove my blade from his body, another dual wielding rogue sneaks up behind me, and manages to pierce their blade through a gap in my chain where a darkspawn maul had ruined it, and cuts through until they're met with the resistance of one of my ribs. I turn and grunt in pain, just before I use the flat of Holly to stun them with a terrible smack to the head, and then pierce through the cheap leather of their armor into their chest, before they can regain themselves from the dizzying hit.

After I pull my blade free from that shem's body, I look to see that the other three bandits are dead at my companions' hands. The anger I felt over their scam ebbs, and I put my hand to the wound to my side. My gauntlet is covered in blood when I remove it.

"That looks bad," Carver says as he nears.

"I'll be fine," I grunt. "I think I still have half a poultice."

Natalie stalks over, and forcefully turns me towards her, and she bends down to inspect the wound. "I don't think half a poultice is going to cut it Warden."

I pull myself out of her grasp, "I'll be fine Hawke!" I snap. "It's not like William's here!"

Her brow furrows, "Who's William?"

I rub at my forehead. He's probably dead. Why did I have to bring him up? "A-a spirit healer," I stutter. "A Grey Warden."

"A mage?" she questions, and shares a look with Carver, who immediately frowns. "You're not opposed to magical healing?"

I feel my face crease, "Of course not. But it doesn't matter! Do you see a mage around here?"

The brunette sucks in her bottom lip. "If I hypothetically knew a mage, and I could take you to them for healing, would you turn them in to the Templars?"

"What?" I ask. Is she questioning my character? "Why would I betray their trust if they helped me?"

"So you wouldn't tell the Templars or Chantry about them? You'd keep their secret?"

I groan. I'm still bleeding here! "If you're a mage Hawke, I'm going to kick your arse for letting me bleed out! No! I wouldn't sodding sell them out!" Damn. It's really starting to hurt. And am I getting woozy?

She smirks, "I'm not a mage, but there's one in the family."

* * *

It turns out I was more injured than I thought. The mage Natalie spoke of, her baby sister Bethany, is no spirit healer. She is far from having William's ability to heal. The timid girl was able to stop my profuse bleeding, even after a quick application of half a health poultice (which didn't cut it – Natalie was right), and told me that in addition to my various blade wounds, I have seven fractures, bruising on my lungs, three broken fingers, and a cracked hip. She was doubly surprised to hear that I had been fighting and running for hours with the cracked bone. Apparently the nerves were damaged too, and I couldn't feel a thing. After she healed the nerves though – I could feel it. The bone needs time to set, same with my fingers, and so here I am holed up in the Hawke's farmstead on the edge of Lothering.

I've been here for a day, and their mother, Leandra, insists on pampering me. I'm not used to it, to say the least. I don't think I'll ever get used to her fussing. It's endearing in a way, and somewhat reminds me of my mother, but I can't stay here forever. Duncan wanted me to see that the darkspawn are taken care of, and I intend to do that as soon as possible. I've thought of sending word to the Wardens of Orlais. Duncan had mentioned that they were contacted about the darkspawn. Maybe they'd know how to best fight the horde?

Leandra comes into the room to hand me one of Natalie's tunics that she altered to fit my slighter frame.

"Here you are, dear." She sets it beside me and sits in a chair near the borrowed bed I'm in. Last night she shared a bed with her youngest daughter, since they've put me in hers. I didn't like that much either. Taking someone's things. Like this tunic. But... the blood stained and numerously ripped one probably needed to retire. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine," I answer and attempt to smile. "Where's Ward?"

"Outside with Murry, I think." Murry is Natalie's mabari. Ward was very pleased to meet the other war hound, and they've been nearly inseparable since they've sniffed noses.

"Good. I think I'm going to take a short walk with him, and see how my hip's doing." I sit up and toss the tunic over my head. Leandra doesn't seem to mind, since I'm only dressed from the hips up in a breastband and bandages.

"Do you want Bethany to walk with you in case you're in pain?" She asks with a concerned frown. She was... cautious at first about my acceptance of her magical daughter, but I really have no problem with mages. I'm not entirely sure why so many people do. Are they jealous they don't have those abilities? Or are they too full of themselves that anybody different then they are considered a plague? Same types that belittle elves. Don't like them.

"No, but... thanks."

Leandra still insisted on escorting me to the door, and once I open it I see Natalie running towards me at full speed, "I just saw the healer Warden from Ostagar!" she shouts.

My eyes just about pop out of my skull in my surprise. It takes me a moment to completely process her words. I'm not the only Warden that survived. William's alive! "Where?!"

"Just outside the tavern."

As soon as the words are said, I'm running as fast as I can into town despite my hip. I can handle the pain. I'm not alone in this anymore.


	7. (Apollo Wings) The Lucky

Author note: According to official NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month - every November people) a novel is anything 50k words or over.

Musicalrain and myself started writing this story two days before posting therefore - with our joint effort, we've written a novel inside a week. Hopefully it's a good novel so far! So let's see how the battle fared in The Tower of Ishal eh?

Also - five points to whoever can tell me what real-life sort of syndrome or condition that William describes later on in the chapter.

Argh - how did this chapter end up so long?

Also - plans. So many plans. I have to make sure the endgame and everything else isn't given away as well as future plot. I have a spin-off short already written for this so :P

* * *

**William Amell **

I'm worried. How much Chantry involvement would mean death for good people today? In fact - I'm livid. We're doing battle in the rain. I'll be healing more after this than I've done the last week combined. Rain is fucking dangerous! The only healer that I knew was on the field was Wynne. Other than that I believe the mages sent here are an assortment of Arcanists and Elementalists, I think I saw Senior Enchanter Uldred around too - he's a Spiritualist - the orange robes a dead giveaway. No Galvanists on the field though - and there's plenty of earth and inherent static in the air for our particular skills. Makes me wonder why Senior Enchanter Leorah wasn't sent - she was my tutor before Irving took an interest in me. Primal spells were seen as a rather unruly way to do magic - but of course that's why I'm good at wielding it - it matches my mind.

Ah - I'm thinking too much again. "Alistair... is that our signal to get moving across this bridge?" I was staring out at the battlefield and the assorted warriors and rogues. There was a horse flying a banner and I saw the first volley of flaming arrows scream through the air. Shit... my veins feel like they've been simultaneously dunked in ice water and then filled with fire. Everything is thrumming. The arrows went straight at what looked like a moving sea of this burning, cold, thrumming feeling. Darkspawn. This is what the ex-templar at my side meant by sensing darkspawn.

"That's our cue. Come on!" Alistair took off over the bridge and I found myself easily keeping pace, long strides and this almost unnatural speed that I'd had since my Joining propelling me forward.

The boulder came crashing toward us and I instantly reacted, crushing the stone into fine dust mid-air. My heart was hammering with the close call and I vaguely heard Alistair keep on calling for me to keep going. Oh yeah - move.

We made it across the bridge as I saw our own army start advancing over the field. I can't see individual people but I can't even feel and magic being used. Where are the bloody mages?

"William! There's darkspawn here!" I was torn out of my thoughts to see my fellow Warden run a genlock (one of the short darkspawn) through. I grasped for the static in the air as I was running, pulling my staff from it's holster on my back.

I was faced with two hurlocks who'd decided I was a prime target and I discharged the static in a powerful chain lightning - hitting every enemy in the nearby vicinity. Maker it was some skill not to hit Alistair - the metal of his sword, shield and armour was a fairly easy target for it. The two hurlock were almost paralyzed, frothing at their mouths and blood dripping from their eyes. It was a disgusting but ultimately satisfying thing to see.

I pushed a little more mana into the spell and the two slumped dead and the sparks shot out on the natural flows to the other darkspawn around. A faint thrum got closer and I felt it... I felt the hurlock nearly run me through and managed to use the bladed end of my staff almost as a pike as it charged, skewering it through the middle.

Alistair was desperately deflecting blows with his shield and I summoned up the stone from the ground - watching as it slid up the legs of the darkspawn attacking him until they couldn't advance anymore. He executed them with controlled swings of his sword and I pulled my staff out of the hurlock I'd skewered - to find that it was stuck. While controlling the earth I'd turned his insides into stone! Shit... there are more coming this way!

I managed to crush the stone hurlock into dust before reforming it as tainted pointed fists, punching them clean through the advancing darkspawn trio and they slumped into the ground. I wiped the back of my sleeve over my forehead and took a deep breath.

This was magic much more powerful than I'd learnt - almost like the next level of primal spells. I wonder... I grasped at a few raindrops and they skittered into the mud as pellets of ice. Oh yeah! That's the easiest I've ever found ice... maybe fire?

No such luck there. I didn't expect it. We carried on through the grounds at the base of the tower, ending darkspawn lives with little to no difficulty as Alistair kept them away from me so I could fry them from a distance. Soon we were at the base of the Tower of Ishal, panting for breath in the rain. I hate rain. Dangerous stuff is going to make me delirious from lyrium come the end of this battle. Speaking of lyrium. I fumbled with my satchel before drawing out a lyrium potion and downed a mouthful before re-stoppering it and putting it back in my bag.

"You!" I turned to the voice and recognized a mage from the tower, his bald head was a defiant act against the fact the Tranquil were shaved of their hair... Wendel? Yes - I think it is. An Elementalist judging by the pale blue robes. So seven mages on the battlefield suddenly became six. Bloody Chantry. "Aren't you the Grey Wardens tasked to light the beacon?"

"We are." Alistair answered for me.

"You're going to hate us. The tower has been over-run with those monsters. They just erupted out of the foundations!" Wendel sniffed, wiping his nose with the edge of his sleeve. Poor lad must only be my age, maybe slightly older but not much.

A blond soldier came out of the door at the base of the tower, leaning heavily into it. "Too... many." He panted. He wasn't injured from the sight of him but he did look breathless.

"We need to get in there and light the beacon." I felt rather powerful with my mana restored. That and the fact that - "Wendel - you're coming with us. Do as we say and don't hold back against these things. Soldier... what's your name?"

"Private Carrigan Ser!" He saluted. Oh! I got a salute! Nice one!

"Private Carrigan - you're with us too. This is Alistair and I'm William. We're need to get up there as quickly as possible! Move into file!" Wendel and Private Carrigan almost didn't seem to question my commands and moved behind me and Alistair. Two mages - we'll sort this out. The door at the base of the tower was thudding. "Wendel - they'll be coming through any second. Burn them."

The door smashed open with a horrid splintering. "Duck!" I yanked Alistair and Carrigan down with me and the flames erupted from the end of Wendels staff - bathing the darkspawn in magical fire and burning them into husks from what I could see. From my crouch I shot a bolt of lightning at them to finish them off. "Move now!"

The flames stopped and we propelled forward, swords and shields alongside mages - brutally taking the darkspawn down. Carrigan and Alistair were taking rather heavy hits on their shield arms and I shot a tendril of numbing at each of them while trying to grasp the stone in the air. It's not dusty enough - I'll have to use the tower itself. Shit. Where is it going to be safe to take a chunk of wall out?

I saw the perfect spot - a fallen pillar and drew it into dust before reforming it into spikes and clubs to batter the darkspawn alongside the two melee fighters. Galvanism is the best magic and I can't imagine the same amount of destruction from Elemental spells and if I matched my robes as a Creationist - I don't even want to think how dead I'd be.

* * *

"Move move move!" Alistair shouted and came back to where Wendel and I were firing spells from and finishing off the darkspawn. But my veins are still burning. There's something still here - close. Carrigan followed in quick suit behind him. The heavily armored hurlock came charging at him and I managed to get a bolt of lightning to slam into him chest. He barely responded to it. It's an alpha. We fought one in the Wilds - when there were five of us. And Shiloh was the one to finish him off then. I hope she's faring okay on the battlefield.

Holy Andraste. "Wendel. Crushing Prison. Alistair - flank left - Carrigan flank right." I'm going to petrify this thing. There's enough of this pillar for me to use for it!

Alistair brought up his shield as the alpha's axe whirled toward him and he poked the sword from underneath, stabbing into it's midsection before the axe pushed him out the way. Wendel managed to put the alpha in a crushing prison and Carrigan was making wild slashes into the relatively weaker armour on it's back when I pushed the essence of the stone into the pillar into the tainted flesh - petrifying it into a statue. It was still alive and Alistair rushed forward and smashed his shield into it - breaking it's head off. It was dead. Thank the Maker we'd worked so well or we could have sustained some horrible injuries from that hideous battle machine.

"Come on - up the stairs - we have more darkspawn to finish off!" I near shouted. There aren't any more on this floor but there are some below and above. I can feel them - and we need to go up. The staircase is only a few paces away. I passed Wendel a lyrium potion as neither of us had been physically attacked before touching to both Carrigan and Alistair's heads to do a quick healing - bruises... Carrigan fractured his wrist on his left - no wonder he wasn't using it, Alistair has a bit of muscle strain on his shoulder. Neither man protested but it could be part of the rush and adrenaline of battle. Before we started up the stone stairs I had a potion myself. Petrifying is rather draining on the mana.

* * *

We were running up the spiraling staircase. "Remind you of the tower William?" Wendel huffed.

"I haven't run up the tower since I was a bairn." I panted back. "Remember how hyper I was?"

"Part of the reason you were in extra-curricular right?" Wendel laughed.

"Something I should know about?" Alistair was hardly exerting himself in running upwards. It's so unfair.

"You must know what they do to the apprentices that... Maker..." I took in a deep breath. "That are rambunctious right? They make us take extra lessons. Non-magical ones. History and such."

"They did the same for me in the Chantry." Alistair smiled. "But I got made to scrub pans."

"What... is... he... talking about?" Wendel wheezed, still not faltering.

"He's... an ex-templar." I have a rather annoying amount of heat rising to my head and sweat on my scalp.

"Nice... to know." Wendel rolled his eyes.

"We should be near the top!" Carrigan was further ahead on the staircase than the rest of us, being much faster and he stopped at the locked door at a small landing. "The beacon is through here!"

"Burn through the lock." I took a deep breath in as I halted and gestured for Wendel to step forward. My fellow mage stood panting for a while, holding up a finger as he regained his breath and straightening up, his staff pointed at the lock in the door.

Flames melted the metal easily and we pushed through. I sensed something... big. It burnt and froze and thrummed in my veins with a greater intensity than I'd ever felt in my short time as a Grey Warden.

"Ogre!" Alistair said in a harsh whisper and we moved to unsheathe our weaponry. It feels huge whatever this 'Ogre' is.

We rounded into the room down a short corridor.

This Ogre was massive - easily twice, maybe three times my height and corded with thick muscles. I was stooped over at the moment, eating... argh - it smelt like blood...

"That's Luca!" Carrigan was pointing at the ogre... shit - that's a half eaten man in his hands! I'm going to be sick. Darkspawn eat people? "You'll die for this!" then he started charging. Shit. Static - gather the static and discharge it at the ogre. Carrigan was lifted up by a chubby hand. Shit.

I managed to hit the ogre on a massive forelimb just before Carrigan was crushed and the solider was dropped unceremoniously to the ground before the ogre took notice of me. Holy... whatever. I can't move. "Light that beacon Wendel! I'll distract the ogre!" Balls. Of. Steel.

Wendel darted past the ogre and I tore a chunk out of the tower wall - we're up in the top - it's not too important and slammed it straight into it's side. It hardly noticed the marble hit it but looked slightly dazed. Alistair had managed to get behind the ogre and slashed at a knee before jumping back as the foot went to step on him. I grabbed another chunk of wall and fashioned it into shards - firing them at the ogre.

The pointed projectiles merely embedded into it's thick hide - but - Yes! One had got into a joint! It can't move one of it's arms! Carrigan was swearing and made a move to get up. I shot a numbing tendril at him - that drop couldn't have been painless in any way. Carrigan smiled and nodded at me before starting to charge again, darting backward and forward with the skill of a veteran to how the ogre noticed him and his attacks. I vaguely heard a whoosh as the beacon was lit. But we still have an ogre... fuck... charging straight at me, it's horned head pointed down as it charged.

I started to run around toward where I'd been tearing chunks of wall away and gathered the rubble dust around me like a cloak of strong, thin armour as I passed. I briefly looked back to see Wendel with his staff outstretched, a crushing prison holding the ogre for the most part. His nose was bleeding with the power he was pouring into the spell and I watched on as Alistair was using his sword as a pick to climb up the ogre. I gripped my temple and sought deep into my own reserves of mana - this is going to need everything I have left.

I gathered more of the stone from the wall and started infusing it with as much static I could draw to me before molding it into a huge spike and drove it into the gut of the ogre. Alistair was seated with his thighs holding tight around the ogre's thick neck, his sword being driven heavily down into it's head through the nasal cavity and then upwards into the brain. The ogre spasmed from the dual attack before he started to fall backwards. I saw it as Alistair's eyes were widening. It was happening in slow motion. Alistair was slammed back into the stone floor, the horns of the ogre thankfully splayed around his torso and not through it.

"I'm coming!" I started to run, removing my rock armour and pulling a lyrium potion out of my satchel. I dropped to my knees at the head of the ex-templar. "How are you doing?" I attempted to smile at him but I could feel the bones broken all up his back. I gulped down the bitter lyrium and and put my hands back to his head.

"Just fine. How are you?" He croaked. Alistair stared up at me, his gaze flickering and blood spilling over his lips.

"I could be better. So could you, you crazy templar." I couldn't bring myself to laugh properly but the sound came out nevertheless - utterly mirthless. "I need to to stay awake - and I don't have enough mana to numb you first so you're going to feel it when I fuse your bones back together."

"Just do it." He grimaced. I steeled myself to start but this was going to hurt him a lot.

"Get that fucking ogre moved now! I don't need him crushed!" Carrigan was limping and Wendel still bleeding from his nose as they jointly started to roll the ogre off my fellow Warden. I felt into the lines of pain in him and grasped for the shattered bones in his back. By some miracle the nerves running down his spine hadn't been severed. He wouldn't be paralyzed. He screamed as I started fusing bone back into their proper places but that was the problem. There were so many pieces that needed being pulled back together. Too many. I couldn't sustain a healing aura to numb him and do this. I removed one hand and felt for my satchel - grabbing a wad of bandages and stuffing them into his mouth.

"Bite down hard on this Alistair. I need to concentrate or I might accidentally kill you." Very true that - one false slip and a shard of bone could nick a vital blood vessel. He just looked at me and I understood as he slowly blinked. 'Just do it' was what it said - repeating his previous words in a way. I started again - this time bringing the bones back together faster - I could see it all inside his muscles, tearing the shards from there and suturing the broken cells and veins back together so he wouldn't bleed out. His heart was pumping so quickly, adrenaline coursing thick as he was biting into the wad of bandages, the edges of his eyes watering.

It was done. I slumped back onto my heels and weakly felt for another lyrium potion, sipping it as I conjured a healing aura and sending numbing tendrils into the ex-templar. Alistair spat out the wad of bandages and slowly slipped out from under the ogre. Carrigan and Wendel had just about managed to make sure he wasn't being crushed but couldn't move it much. "I was so close... I was going to..." Alistair smiled weakly at me. "Thank you. You saved me."

"Let's just hope you don't pull a stunt like that again." I sighed. Carrigan was groaning against the ogre and I passed over a healing potion - rather different from a poultice as you could drink these. I don't have the energy to heal just yet. Wendel looked up at me, his sweat-slicked forehead shining in the light from the beacon flue. The trails of blood down his face from his nose was dried to his skin but he felt as I looked. Utterly proud.

"How did it get up here?" Carrigan asked. Alistair and I shared a glance between us.

"Maker only knows." Alistair grabbed instinctively to his tender torso. It would be that way for a while with the order I'd had to heal the poor man in. But we'd killed this gigantic darkspawn ogre. And none of us were dead. It was an achievement to be sure.

I felt the familiar thrum return in my veins and looked up only to see an arrow go into my side. Huh? Where's the pain? Another landed in my shoulder and my vision was getting hazy. I suddenly felt the pain as another barrage of arrows slammed into me... how many I'm not sure but my head hit the stone hard and I blacked out.

I'm dying. Funny that - I was just thinking about how I wasn't dead. I wonder if everyone else is dying too. I'll soon find out I suppose. I can feel the Fade beckoning through the sharp pain - like a comforting blanket.

* * *

I can't feel any pain but I am wrapped in something - constricting. So this is death. Being completely dead. Not the same as becoming a Grey Warden when I came back to life shortly after. I opened my eyes and found myself in an unfamiliar place. Or perhaps from a memory long ago. I don't know.

I'm... on a bed. The smell of elfroot and mud thick in the air. Huh? "Ah! And now you awaken! Mother shall be pleased!" I know that voice... My head turned to see... the wilds lass? What was her name? Is she dead too? I suppose if the darkspawn found her and...

"Are you dead too lassie?" I propped myself up onto my elbows and noted that I'm completely naked but for swathes of bandages - which thankfully covered the important parts.

"I am no more dead than yourself and you are perfectly alive." Her name - what was it? Maureen? No... Morgan? No... Morrigan!

So I'm not dead? That's rather interesting. "How?" I put a hand up to my temple and let the barest amount of healing magic soothe a headache forming.

"My mother saved you from that tower. Plucked you as a giant bird betwixt her talons along with that blond fool who paces outside as we speak." She frowned. "For a long time we thought you dead. But-" She brightened up. "I can now tell the fool you are alive and he shall stop grousing your fate."

"Er... thank you. For the healing I mean. Morrigan." I gave her a polite nod. That hardly answered my question but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm alive - now I just need to carry on living. Not too difficult right? "Would you know where my robes are? I find myself rather bare."

"On that chair." She pointed to a wicker chair by the bed - with my satchel. At least Duncan's faith in my looking after the treaties was well placed. Duncan!

"Do you, do you know the battle went?" I picked up the - argh - red robes and pulled them on over my bandages, slinging my satchel over the top and reaching for my hobnail boots, strapping them on over the bandages on those as well. I'm going to have get back to Ostagar - if the battle was anything like what we had to endure up the tower I'll have a heavy healing rota.

"It seems the man meant to charge in the left flank - I believe his name was Teryn Loghain? Didn't respond to your signal. He instead quit the field. Both your King and the Grey Wardens on the field are dead." No. No. That couldn't be. Gregor, Duncan... Shiloh. All dead? That just can't be!

"And the blond fool outside?" It could mean Carrigan or Alistair. I didn't think either a fool but who knows what Morrigan thinks of the men. They're both brave men and charged at a foe much larger than them despite knowing it could kill them so easily. But that means - oh poor Wendel. He was a good lad, a talented Elementalist and dabbler in most other areas - rather brave too. Even before he shaved his head - he had brown hair. It couldn't be him.

"He claims to have been a templar." So Alistair. I'm not the only Warden left in Ferelden then.

"I should go outside. Thank you again lassie." I bowed politely to her, still stiff from however long I've been in that bed and not moving. Morrigan scoffed.

"I did no healing of you. Twas my mother you should thank." She opened the door of wherever I was - seeing as Morrigan mentioned her mother - I would assume at the hut where her mother gave us the treaties. I quickly looked in my satchel - nothing out of place... the scrolls of the promises of support, my journal, needle and reel of catgut, lyrium vials, health poultices, a health potion left... everything is in here. Even my bloody mortar and pestle for making poultices, potions and salves. I carry too much crap around with me as a normal thing - I can't say I'm not glad as I'd not be able to retrieve it now.

"Then I'll thank her too. But the same - you've been very helpful." She shook her head as I walked into the stark sunlight but followed me out of the hut.

"Makers breath." Alistair was looking at me as if I were a ghost. "I... I really thought you were dead."

"So did I... I take it you were told the bad news?" I shifted uncomfortably on the spot. If they hadn't told Alistair yet - then I'd hate to be the one to do it. I'd never noticed how dreadfully young he is - how young I am. If we're the last to Grey Wardens - we're going to get killed for sure. I scratched my beard out of habit. "You have then."

"I still can't believe it. Everyone... dead." Alistair closed his eyes and his fists curled at his sides. "And all because some bastard didn't charge."

"Gregor... Duncan. Shiloh. I thought I'd seen enough death. It keeps on following me." I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes. I suddenly felt arms trap me in a crushing embrace. "I can't breathe!"

"Don't say that! It isn't your fault!"

"I really can't breathe Alistair. I'm rather tender." I was released and glared at a rather sheepish looking Alistair. Oh - I cant help but feel sorry for him. He seemed so idealistic and dedicated to the Grey Wardens in the short time I've known him. He looks broken. "Oh - and I have a thank you to give to Morrigan's mother."

"Bah! You talked as if I weren't here just now. You forget I have all my senses still functioning!" Morrigan's mother had been standing by Alistair and myself the whole time - but still.

"But you haven't told us your name!" Alistair blurted before becoming rather pink about the ears.

"Ha! As if names were nothing more than pretty things that are lost to the sands of time! If you must call me anything the Chasind call me Flemeth... or Asha'bellanar - that is what the people of the Dales bestowed upon me! Quite flowery don't you think for an old lady?" Wait - Flemeth? As in THE Flemeth? Witch of legends that even in the tower is little more than myth? I've stumbled into and was saved by a mythical witch?

"Or we could just call you an old hag that talks too much." Alistair mumbled.

"I heard that young man!" She snapped.

"You can't really be Flemeth - she's hundreds, maybe thousand of years old! She killed Lord Conobar and was..." I furrowed my brow, thinking back on lessons that seemed so long ago.

"Ah! The boy who knows his history! Tell me - who taught you such fanciful tales?" I took a step back.

"I learnt - and that's all you need to know." I pursed my lips. I don't want to sound too ungrateful. "I'm very sorry milady Flemeth - I just feel rather skeptical that a thing I thought little more than mythical would sweep in and save me from death. Especially me."

"That is true mother. I would have saved a King - would it have brought us a much higher ransom were we so inclined." Morrigan chuckled. I almost forgot she'd exited the hut with me.

"Very true. Not very sensible. I had the Chantry willing for my guts though for healing every sod at Ostagar. They might pay to see me made Tranquil." I shrugged. Alistair winced. Oh - that was rather insensitive of me.

"But mother is hardly ever sensible." Morrigan shook her head and tutted.

"So what do we do now?" I asked Alistair. "I assume we have a Blight to stop?" That should make him perk up a bit. He did seem to take his duty as a Grey Warden rather seriously at least - before all of this. I can only hope he still does.

"Yes. We do." He drawled, looking at his feet. "But no Grey Warden has ever done it without an army of the united countries of Thedas at his back. I wouldn't even know the first thing about raising armies."

"Neither would I!" I took a deep breath of the boggy air. "I haven't ever traveled about Ferelden because of being in the circle. I'm not even from this country! I can't use magic without alerting templars and putting us at risk. At least my phylactery is destroyed but that doesn't make me feel any better."

"What you two young men are forgetting is the treaties you so politely asked for." Flemeth took me out of my little rant. Duncan - I said it in the tower - you're a wily bastard. It was as if he knew.

"Of course! The treaties!" Alistair perked up a little.

"I had a look at them on the way back from Flemeth's hut." I toed the ground. "We have treaties of support from the Dalish Elves, Kinloch Hold and the Dwarves of Orzammar."

"So we go to all these places - and just tell them they're needed?" Alistair pursed his lips. "It can't be that easy."

"If there's a Blight on then I assume it won't be. There must be darkspawn pouring out of Ostagar as we speak." I clenched my jaw.

"There may be someone else we can ask to ally with us too." Alistair was fidgeting.

"Well I'm waiting..." What does Alistair know?

"Arl Eamon. Before... the battle. I found out his troops hadn't arrived yet. We can speak to him."

"And who's to say he isn't in cahoots with Loghain?" I don't know who he's talking about... but Arls - are higher nobility. They'd have troops for sure. Whether or not he'd want to give them to us would be a different matter.

"He's a good man. He wouldn't dare!" He was fuming. I must have touched a nerve. An honest mistake.

"If we're going to do anything, we need to leave - get out of here and onto this. I know this seems impertinent milady Flemeth but if there's anything you could gift us to aid our journey. The most helpful thing right now would be a map or something to eat. I would understand if your charity has come to an end however." As if on cue my stomach grumbled like I hadn't had any food in a week. I was enough to take Alistair's mind off of the fact I'd just bad-mouthed this Arl Eamon to him.

"My charity? You really think that is what I have done?" Flemeth smiled... oh - another unnatural smiler. "Nay, you Grey Wardens are needed. You must end this Blight because it is something even I cannot fight against. But-"

"But?" Alistair stared quizzically at the witch of the wilds.

"But, I do have something for you. Morrigan!"

"You called?" Morrigan smiled... unnatural smile. "I do hope this is more important than removing any rubbish you have spied in your line of sight." She glared at Alistair as if he was the aforementioned rubbish. But not me strangely enough. Thank the Maker for small favors.

"Morrigan is going with you." Another unnatural smile. I'm getting a lot of these.

"WHAT!" Morrigan slapped her mother on the side of the face and Flemeth slapped her daughter back with equal if not a harder force.

"You my dear sweet Morrigan," Flemeth began. "Will be headed out with these Grey Wardens. And you - Grey Wardens will take my daughter - know that I give you something I cherish more than most things. Take good care of her."

Alistair and myself stared at the scene. We're taking Morrigan with us? "Do I need to mention that outside of the Wilds... well anywhere - that your darling daughter is an apostate?" He glared at the wilds lass.

"Aren't I technically now one as well - even though I'm a Grey Warden?" I felt the compulsion to ask.

"Yes - isn't the one I only know as a wizard an apostate?" Morrigan snapped back at the ex-templar.

"You're just a Grey Warden now William. With no ties to anything of your previous life." Alistair explained.

"I'm pretty sure I'm still a mage." I sighed.

"But do we really need to take her?" He whined.

"Not only is her magic useful. She knows how to get past the horde of darkspawn you will have to bypass." Flemeth almost sneered at him. Am I the only one trying to make a good impression on the people who saved us from certain death? "If you seek no help from us illegal mages young man then I should have left you to die atop that tower."

"Good... point." He acquiesced.

"Consider her a repayment for saving your lives." Flemeth almost made that sound cheerful. But what did that mean? Are we sitting on this Morrigan during the Blight to keep her safe because our lives were saved? Fair enough I suppose.

"Allow me to get my things. I believe I may even have a map too." Morrigan went back into the hut.

"Why are you looking at me like that Alistair?" I felt rather uncomfortable with the ex-templar staring at me.

"Oh - nothing. You know - you're a little bit of a leader." What? How did that happen?

"No I'm not." I sniffed.

"You led us... Wendel, Carrigan and myself in the tower." I winced when he spoke of the two people who'd died when we'd lived.

"I reacted. Let's just get out of the Wilds and figure out where we need to go." I put my hand back up to my temple. Headache - it just came back.

* * *

As per Morrigan's suggestion we make our way up to a village called Lothering by going around the horde of darkspawn without encountering a single one of the tainted monsters - a true achievement. I found the walking rather easier. A Grey Warden thing? I must ask Alistair. It could explain how Gregor had set such a punishing pace without any difficulty - although that could have been him. It suddenly didn't feel as much though.

"Ah... Lothering. A pretty as a painting am I right?" I turned. Alistair hadn't spoken a single word since we'd left Flemeth's hut.

"Certainly. The crowds of refugees and soldiers inside with hammering hearts just adds to the joyous and beautiful picture." I sighed. There's a lot of people up ahead. Lots of heartbeats - I made a note of ignoring them and focusing on the thoughts in my head. It might take us about an hour to get through the throng of people.

"Finally! The fool speaks!" Morrigan exclaimed.

"I know this might be a hard concept for you but I'm grieving okay?" He looked like Shiloh for a brief moment - that glint of wanting to punch things on his face. Oh - she's dead. I just brought my mood down. I'm not going to think of the people I knew - the sheer numbers of people I healed in Ostagar. Most of them are dead.

"If you only knew." Morrigan sighed. "Come - we must push through the village and set camp soon. I find you have both walked far quicker than I anticipated." So I'm right! Hi-five to the mage who knows how to think!

"I've been thinking..." Alistair trailed off, looking at me expectantly.

"That must have been difficult - however did you manage such a feat?" I'm really starting to not like Morrigan. She may be helpful but she is rather blunt. Alistair lost more people he knew at Ostagar! I can only say I lost four - Wendel, Duncan, Gregor and Shiloh. I may have only known the elven lass a short while but I liked her and her rather abrupt, short tempered way. She didn't pull her punches and seemed rather noble. I need to stop thinking on the people we're all lost - who I lost.

"Did you ever have any friends as you grew up?" He was opening and closing his fists.

"Alas - I desired to be more intelligent rather than a sociable person." She sighed in mock disappointment - rolling her eyes.

"Just a question Morrigan - what spells do you know?" It would be interesting to see what Flemeth had taught her - she wouldn't have been made to do bloody extra-curriculars because she was one of the 'special' mages. I also can't stand this argument brewing. I can see Alistair and Morrigan will have such a friendly relationship in the long slog ahead us.

"I have fully mastered Entropic and Elemental spells - as well as how to Shapeshift." She grinned. "I wonder - how have they taught you in your gilded prison?"

"Primal and Spirit Healing." I shrugged. Shapeshifting - wow... that sounds rather interesting. But... my mind wanders to Mouse. The Pride demon. He shapeshifted. "I can also do one ice spell. Not very well."

"Then it is truly a wonder that you can function." She smirked. "Surely a mage of your age and caliber to have become a Grey Warden would be rather more intelligent."

"Aye, I am." I snorted. "Do you know what they do to 'special' mages? If I were a normal, mundane bairn I'd have been called a loon or helligan. Instead - I'm Ponderous Mage."

"I know what that is!" Alistair sounded rather happy for a moment before retreating back into his shell.

"And what pray tell would that be?" Morrigan quirked an elegant eyebrow up.

"We're... special mages. We all are a little different but we're all people who tend to over-think. I have to keep my mind occupied. I had two friends who are as well. Anders and Flora. Jowan used to attach to us too."

"I have no idea who those people are." Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Nor do I wish to know. One such as yourself should be plenty of Ponderous Mage to deal with."

"The templars don't want us learning too much you see. Because they think we're odd. Most other mages think it too so we all stuck together - just being friends with ourselves and mainly relating to the older mages." I continued - unhindered by Morrigan's retort. "It's been noted that if not given the right sort of attention that's needed for the way we are, we've been known to retreat within ourselves. Hence - in a roundabout way - why we get given non-magical lessons. All Chantry approved of course."

"Tis quite annoying - how you blabber so. If I am ever in need of hot air I shall know whom to speak to." I did it again... shit. I always have an attack of the verbal diarrhea when meeting people properly. At least I'm not spraying embarrassing things - like when I called Shiloh a bonny thing. She is rather... was rather bonny. But still.

"Ouch. I'm really hurt by that!" I snorted. "What were we talking about? Oh yes - you had a thought Alistair?"

"I was just wondering where our next point of call is going to be after here." Alistair had been pretty quiet while I was babbling and Morrigan must have been listening - even a little bit.

"No idea. When we set up camp - we'll all decide." I shrugged.

"You don't want to decide?" Alistair stared at me.

"You weren't kidding when you said I looked like a leader. Fine... erm." I rifled in my satchel and grasped hold of the first treaty scroll I could, pulling it out and opening it. I'm not thinking about going to Redcliffe until we have some of these done. Don't want to have nothing to show this Arl Eamon. "Dwarves. We go to Orzammar. But right now - I feel like learning something. How about a jaunt to the nearest tavern and asking around for what's happening. There has to be theories running about Ostagar right?"

* * *

And so we walked into Loghain's men. Perfect. Oh - and we found out we're traitors to Ferelden. I suddenly wish I hadn't done the sheer amount of healing I had in Ostagar - because I was recognized pretty easily. I can't do magic with this many people around. There isn't any stone, dust, water or the safety to do lightning here. I can heal. Nothing more. Shit. Oh - and add to the fact of it that I'm not Ferelden and don't even sound it.

"Please. These are but poor refugees - just like everyone else in this crowded tavern." A lass in Chantry robes was putting herself between us and Loghain's men. Poor woman - she'll be gutted if she doesn't move. She sounds Orlesian? Just what we need. Orlesians to stick up for us. We're dead. She's dead.

"We know that one." He pointed to me. "And Loghain is paying a pretty sum for you - dead or alive. Guess which we're picking?"

"Surely this can be settled peaceably?" The lass pleaded only to be shoved out of the way.

"Stand for them and you'll get the same treatment."

Alistair was the first to get a punch in. He clocked the lead man on the side of the jaw and he was pushed back. The man didn't miss a beat and pushed forward from the crowd of people he'd been pushed into. Ah shit.

I picked up a chair... fuck it's not as heavy as I thought it would be. I brought it up and slammed it heavily down on a man creeping up on Alistair. Morrigan has seemingly faded into the background. I don't blame her. We really shouldn't be using magic if we don't need to. The end of a quest to end the Fifth Blight - in a cell in a Chantry awaiting templars to take us to the Circle? Not the best of ideas. The man who had been punched by Alistair spat on the ground and he tackled the ex-templar to the floor, kicking and punching for all his might. I worked on instinct - I booted him.

Hobnail boots. I love you.

No... I most certainly do not. The man growled and leaped from the ground - toppling me over onto the floor. I really shouldn't be this easy to take down. The Chantry sister almost appeared from no-where and a dagger flashed and sunk into his side. The man howled in pain before jumping off me and going for her. I grasped onto his shoulder as he stood up and placed a hand on his neck.

"Oh I wouldn't do that lad." I hissed between my teeth. "There's enough static in this room from people moving that I can take you down with one bolt." I played upon people's fears on mages. Am I a bad person? No. Did I prove myself to be a mage? No. It was the best plan my mind could have possibly come up with. If it's something I don't like to see... it's an innocent get hurt in my stead. Damned bleeding heart.

"Please! I'm only doing what I was ordered to do."

"Get out of here. Run to Loghain and tell him two Grey Wardens survived. Tell him we know what happened at Ostagar and tell him we're going to avenge all those deaths." I didn't remove my hand from him the entire time but he was quivering. His heart had raced throughout the entire time. He was sweating all over my hand but I don't care - a better conductor for the static to discharge through. "Move it now or you're a dead man."

He took the hint and scampered out of the tavern - dragging the two other men he had with him. One - I'd given a chair over the head and the other looked as if he were in the middle of a nightmare from his screaming and the way his face was covered by his hands - clawing at his skin.

Morrigan - you sly woman. Good trick though. I might get her to write down how to do entropy spells. Looks helpful in a pinch.

"I'm glad you spared those men." The Chantry sister was wiping hair from her face and extended a hand in greeting.

I didn't take it. I saw her poke her amulet back into her vestments. That's a Seeker's Amulet. They're the people who guard the guardians. Watch the watchers... Seekers make sure templars are being vigilant over mages. I'm not stupid. It could however be a trinket she picked up. A lot of Chantry sisters seemingly had them - and a lot of them looked rather old. "Well lassie - I played to the fear of magic. What else could I do?" I shrugged. In truth - there wasn't enough to kill the man - but it would have hurt like a bitch.

"Those men spoke the truth did they not? A mage being so obvious would have to be a Grey Warden." Shit - I didn't think this through didn't I? She gestured to an empty table and we both sat down. If Alistair wants me to be the leader of the group - I'll get us out of trouble. Somehow.

I lowered my voice. "Trust me when I say this. We're not Grey Wardens."

"Oh? Are you not my seemingly uninteresting friend?" She smiled. Not the unnatural smile like Morrigan or Flemeth - a rather genuine one. Then she winked. Argh. "Well why don't we step outside and speak?"

"What do you want?" I couldn't help being blunt.

"I wish to join you on this quest. You are doing good no?" Well... more help would be good.

"Any good with a weapon?" I asked. I'm not bringing someone for prayers or as darkspawn fodder. I'm not evil.

"I have a bow, a quiver of arrows and leathers in my cell in the Chantry. I can get them. As well as a little coin and my own bedroll." Sounds like she had this all planned.

"My name's William. Don't shorten it. This is Alistair and Morrigan." I gestured to my companions. "Can I have your name?"

"Leliana." She smiled. "I am so glad you accepted me!" She looked ready to burst with that smile on her face. It is rather infectious.

"Help is always needed." I smiled back.

"Plus - the Maker told me to go with you." My face fell. What? "I should clarify that."

"You should." Morrigan drawled from behind me. The ice in her voice was tangible.

"I knew you would find it odd - but please hear me out." She cleared her throat. "He told me the remaining Grey Wardens would need help in defeating the Blight. That I would be of profound help to them. I was just about to head into the town again to watch for any odd looking people arriving when I needed a drink." She gestured over to a tankard over on the bar that a rather fat man was eying.

"Right." I pursed my lips. "I know this sounds odd. But prove yourself and you can come along. If you prove to be of no use we can leave you at the nearest Chantry right? Just like all the spellbind bairns?"

"Don't say such a word!" Leliana hissed. So my little plan worked! She's not going to have a problem with my or Morrigan's magic. Good. "It is a disgusting term for a mage and I can't believe you'd use it yourself!"

"Just a test." I smiled. I really don't care if she believes the Maker sent her to us. She's going to prove herself and if she is really as profoundly helpful as she said she would be then I'll have been good with my decision. "Alistair - take Leliana to the Chantry, help her with getting her things and we'll meet back here. Morrigan... if you could stay here and wait for them to return. I'm going to get a breath of fresh air. I'm getting a headache."

* * *

It was weird how people were doing as I asked. Strange. They knew what and who I was and yet they were taking orders from me. Very, very weird. Just as I was leaning on the side of the tavern, thinking and breathing the blessedly cooler outside air a woman looked straight at me. Straight At Me. And darted off.

I vaguely think I've seen her somewhere. Oh shit. She could have been one of Loghain's soldiers who I healed at Ostagar. I'm stupid to have thought we'd dealt with all the Blighters. My staff is inside with Morrigan. Shit.

* * *

I ran back in and out of the tavern as quickly as possible and searched the very drab landscape to see a blur of orange and a blur of brown come right at me... and land.

The orange thing was on my chest - the brown thing breathing hot air over my face. It took me a moment to realize the orange thing was hugging me for everything it was worth - and muttering my name.

"Shi-Shiloh?" I managed to wheeze. "If that's you... as wonderful as this hug is. I'm struggling to breathe." The orange thing quickly pulled off me. It... it's Shiloh! Oh! I've never been so happy in my entire life! I picked myself off the ground and noticed how the brown thing... a mabari? Padded over to her and sat nearly on her feet. "How are you alive?"

"I could ask you the same thing." She looked so happy. I don't think I've seen her look just as pleased as she did right now.

"Long story short. Morrigan's mother? Is Flemeth - as in witch of the wilds 'I eat children for breakfast' witch of the wilds. She turned into a giant bird. Rescued us from the tower and I woke up in her hut." I took the whole of her in. Just in a tunic and hose - not even in shoes! Where did she actually come from?

"Us? There's another survivor?" She looked behind me as if they could hide behind my spindly form.

"Alistair too. We also have a few more people with us. Morrigan - who you briefly met in the Wilds. And an Orlesian Chantry sister called Leliana who has a bow." I still couldn't believe it. "Did anyone else survive? Duncan... Gregor? Any other Wardens?" She shook her head solemnly. I see.

"I see you found him!" The woman who'd darted off was smiling as she came up to us. "I told you I saw the healer from Ostagar by the tavern."

"So I have you to thank for reuniting us!" I turned to her, incredibly short brown hair, piercing blue eyes and cocky smile. "My thanks lass."

"No problem. Shiloh here didn't like the thought she was the last Grey Warden!" She clapped the elf on the back and funnily enough - Shiloh didn't scowl at her.

"I didn't like to think I was one of two. Now I'm one of three!" I glanced downward at my elven comrade. "Shiloh - Alistair is making me lead. I'm terrible. Would you take over pretty please with honey on top?"

She stifled a laugh with the back of her hand. "I suppose. Did I tell you how useless he is Hawke? He can heal, and lightning and stone - forget about it. But you should've seen him covered in mud. He froze the stuff off and was shivering for hours! Not his best idea."

"Was that an insult without the word shem in it?" I smirked. Before I forget my manners though. "Milady - for looking after Shiloh and most probably saving her from stomping into battle I offer you my most sincere thanks."

"Anytime. Oh - and do you remember me?" I frowned. I must have healed her then - but for the life of me I don't know her name. "Natalie Hawke. Everyone calls me Hawke though."

"Well Hawke - It's been lovely meeting you. You may call me William. William Amell." I gave her a polite bow from the hip. "Healer, Galvanist and Grey Warden." I looked up to see this Natalie staring at me with an open mouth. Did... I say something wrong?

"You need to follow me." She grabbed my hand and starting almost dragging me. Maker this woman has some strength! Shiloh was running along with me and muttered something that sounded like 'She wasn't this crazy before'.

* * *

We finally stopped outside an unremarkable looking farmstead, a couple of chickens pecking in the yard and a goat tied up to a stake. Natalie stopped me and brushed some dirt off my shoulders. What in the Makers name? "Why are we here? Last time I got dragged anywhere with the words 'follow me' I nearly got killed."

"I need you to meet someone. MOTHER!" Natalie shouted into the door as she opened it, tugging me along and a sighing Shiloh following.

A rather kind looking lady was sitting at a kitchen table and looked up to see Natalie enter the room - me firmly in her grip. "Hey Leandra!" Shiloh greeted the woman. "I'm going to grab my things - this is the dork of my group - some of them survived!."

"Hey!" I pursed my lips as she smiled impishly - almost skipping down a hallway and ducking into a room.

"I hope there's a reason you brought this man here." The woman I think is called Leandra and she must be Natalie's mother - they look rather alike - looked at me and I saw it as her hand started to tremble. "You... you look just like. You can't be."

"Who do I look like?" I sighed and reached up to my head on instinct before putting my hand down. Natalie may know I'm a mage from Ostagar but I don't know if I can trust many people. I need to be a little more self-preserving.

"Maker - you even sound like him!" The cup in her hand was put calmly on the table and she stood up and walked up to me, looking me up and down - until she stopped on my pin brooch... my family crest in it's radiant paste glory. "You have to be!" She wrapped her arms around me and I felt every bone in my torso get squeezed together. What is it with me getting hugged by really strong women today? Or hugged by strong people in general.

"Who?" I managed to huff before I was relinquished.

"My cousin! You're too young by far - but you look just like him - and the pin brooch. What's your name?" Leandra was still staring at me as if I was going to do something rather rash. Why do people stare at me? I swear I get looked at like I'm about to do stupid things.

"William." Natalie nudged me with a strong elbow to the ribs. Oh polite. This was her mother. "William Amell milady Leandra."

"You have to be him!" I was hugged again. I am a delicate mage flower. I am a delicate mage flower.

"I have bandages under here. I escaped death not a few days ago!" Leandra yet again released me.

"Best sit down mother - before you break him. You too." I still have no idea what's going on but this Natalie was rather commanding - I found myself sitting opposite Leandra and Natalie sat next to Leandra. "Now what's your maiden name mother and who is your cousin?"

"William. This must be so strange. I..." The words caught in her throat. "Before I married a man called Malcolm Hawke - I was Leandra... Leandra Amell." I was floored. I am so glad I'm seated. "My cousin. A part of the Amell line that moved to Starkhaven when Aristide Amell was not voted as Viscount in Kirkwall." That made sense I suppose. I knew Amells were nobility - just not that they were that high. Viscount - if I remember my history correctly is a leader of a city - like a mayor but with more power. "His brother Fausten was the one who moved to Starkhaven - and he had a son. Damion - my cousin."

"My father?" I could barely breathe. I can barely remember anything before the circle. I think I was told most of it and I have a hazy memory of before.

"I met you once - when you were less than two years old. My cousin was so proud of you." She smiled sadly. "I got a letter from his wife - your mother Revka a few years back when he died. She passed on shortly after." Both my parents are dead? "They missed you a lot - I wrote to them often because they didn't begrudge me for a choice I made." Natalie grabbed her mother's hand. "I married an apostate. Malcolm was a good man. When you got taken to the Circle they found where I was living in Ferelden with Malcolm and we got in touch again."

"They didn't hate me for being a mage?" I just blurted it out. I could feel the tracks of tears running down my face but Leandra was crying too.

"They loved you but the templars took you so quickly. They would have gone on the run to keep you safe." They would? Maker... I remember thinking I could find out about my family if I became a Grey Warden but this?

"I can't believe it." I closed my eyes, the warmth of teary eyelids the only thing I was focused on until Leandra was standing up and hugging me again. This time - it felt right. It was family. I had family. "You don't know how much it means to me."

"I have a present for you." Leandra pulled away. "Revka sent me Damion's tartans when he passed. She couldn't look at it any more - thought I could make use of it. A very practical woman your mother."

"His tartans?" I blinked at her. "I... I'd be honored." I gulped.

* * *

I am wearing my father's full tartans over the horrid red robe. I've taken off the feathered pauldrons and I've never felt so right. Burgundy and black - as I remembered them. They're long too. Long enough for me even. I pinned my family brooch on the sash and looked at myself in the mirror that Leandra had on her dresser. I feel... like an Amell. Like I'm not just a mage. I'm William Amell. I look like my name. My satchel and holster for my staff and staff were put on over the top. It all looks - right.

"They suit you." I turned to see Shiloh at the door frame. "They're long enough too."

"They are." I gave her a small twirl. "My father was tall like me." Or at least - I'm led to believe. In every memory of him I have he's tall. I was only a bairn back then though.

"Knock knock!" Natalie followed Shiloh into the room. "Now who is this dashing cousin of mine in my mother's room?"

"I suppose it would be me?" I smiled at her. Family. This lass was my family.

"You look so much like him." I saw Leandra... Aunt Leandra follow her daughter in. This room is getting crowded.

"Who looks like who?" A new voice asked, another lass stepped into the room. This one had pitch black hair in loose ringlets and there was a little bit of energy radiating from her.

"Bethany!" Natalie pushed her sister up to me. "This is William Amell. He's a mage too."

"You're a mage lass?" I smiled. "What brand of magic is your forte?"

"Elementalism and Force Magic." She looked nervous before but now she looked happy. "You?"

"Galvanism and Spirit Healing." I was hugged.

"Just like father." Okay... I'm just like her father. "Except he did Force Magic too."

"Are you alright William?" That was Shiloh. I can't remember her actually using my name other than when she tackled me to the floor outside the tavern.

"I'm fine lassie. Just... happy." I hugged this Bethany back. I've got family. I never thought I'd have a family I could hold. Family I could get to know. But I can't be here. I'm a Grey Warden. I have a duty. "I need to get back to my companions."

"Must you leave so soon?" Leandra asked. She looked rather put out but I think she understood.

"Aye. But I'll write! Promise me you'll get out of Lothering. The darkspawn horde is approaching and I'd like to see you all again one day." Bethany let me go and the whole of us were walking back out of the farmhouse.

"We plan on heading to Kirkwall." Leandra gave me a kiss on the cheek. "If you ever come to The Free Marches look us up."

"I shall." I gave her a kiss back on her cheek and was reluctantly pulled away by Shiloh - and I've only just noticed she's in her chainmail with Holly on her back.

The door to the house was closed and I heard Natalie shout something like "Where the fuck is Carver when we have a guest?"... That name rings a bell. I can't put my finger on where from though.

"So... how was it?" Shiloh was marching toward the tavern.

"I've never felt so happy and lucky to have a family my entire life." I smiled, taking a deep breath. "I wonder what Alistair is going to say when he sees you?"


	8. (Musicalrain) The Talkfest

Author Note: Dialogue here people! Loads! Hope you have fun reading it! (I had fun writing it!) And I hope you're starting to see progress with Shiloh's character. She's still angry! But she has friends!

Much love as always, Musicalrain! (P.s. New readers, favoriters, reviewers, and followers – you're all awesome!)

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

I came out of Bethany's room as quick as I could after strapping my chain to my body and securing Holly. Oh. And my boots and stockings. Somehow I had forgotten those before tackling William. I can feel the heat start to rise to my cheeks. I seriously tackled him. And hugged him. And, well, I'm not alone anymore! I'm too happy! I don't care if I made a fool out of myself. I hugged a shem! If my cousins had saw that, they would've thought I'd lost my mind. Well... that's not totally out of question. I just agreed to lead more shems. But what can you do when those are your friends? Wait... Did I just refer to humans as 'friends' in my mind? What... Which... Who? Ah, I suppose the Hawke family has been very nice to me. Natalie reminds me of Shianni, and... and William's my... friend. I guess. Also Alistair. I think I just hurt myself with that admission. Let's not think about it anymore.

I stop in the doorway of the kitchen when I hear Natalie's voice, "Now what's your maiden name mother and who is your cousin?" What... what's going on here? I look around. Natalie, Leandra and William are all seated at the table, and Leandra looks... nervous?

"William. This must be so strange. I..." Leandra seems to choke on her words, and brings a hand to her chest before continuing. I'd be blind not to see the emotion in her eyes. I'm confused though, but before I can think too much on the scene before me, she continues, "Before I married a man called Malcolm Hawke - I was Leandra... Leandra Amell." Oh snap! I see William's mouth hang open, his face turn ashen, and he slouches as he sits back in her chair. They're related? "My cousin. A part of the Amell line that moved to Starkhaven when Aristide Amell was not voted as Viscount in Kirkwall. His brother Fausten was the one who moved to Starkhaven - and he had a son. Damion - my cousin."

"My father?" Hold a moment here people! I'm trying to process! So... Leandra's his aunt then? And... William's from Starkhaven. That's his accent? And why the Void am I still standing here listening to such a personal conversation? Apparently I have boundary issues too.

"I met you once - when you were less than two years old. My cousin was so proud of you." I see tears start to gather in Leandra's eyes, even from where I stand, and she offers William a watery smile. "I got a letter from his wife - your mother Revka a few years back when he died. She passed on shortly after." Oh shit! William just lost all the color to his face! He didn't have much to begin with, but still! That's some shit. Learning about your parents like that. If I... No, I'm not thinking about that. "They missed you a lot - I wrote to them often because they didn't begrudge me for a choice I made." I see Natalie lean into her mother in support, and take her hand comfortingly as the woman started crying. Oh! Sad Leandra makes me sad! It's the same feeling when Father's sad. Why do parental figures do that? "I married an apostate. Malcolm was a good man. When you got taken to the Circle they found where I was living in Ferelden with Malcolm and we got in touch again." I'd heard Bethany mention her father. She had said that he taught her magic.

"They didn't hate me for being a mage?" Oh no! Now William's crying! Why does it look even sadder with his face tattoos? I unconsciously move forward. The man is in need of another hug! I'm a hugger people, well, to the people I like, everyone else I want to punch. It's just me. My cousins have learned to stave off my hugs though. They're mean like that sometimes. Natalie sees my movement, and shakes her head. I root myself to the spot. The hugging urge is still there, but I can reign it in, just like I did when I first met Ward.

"They loved you but the templars took you so quickly. They would have gone on the run to keep you safe." That seems to bring relief to his face. His tears seem to be stopping. Good.

"I can't believe it. You don't know how much it means to me." His eyes are closed now, and I study his face with concern etched into my own. Why do I care if the shem is sad? Ugh. He's my friend, and he reminds me of a sad puppy. Terrible combo, that. Now I feel even worse for him! On top of what was in his journal!

Oh, now they're hugging. See? They needed hugs. "I have a present for you." Leandra releases him before she continues, "Revka sent me Damion's tartans when he passed. She couldn't look at it any more - thought I could make use of it. A very practical woman your mother."

"His tartans?" He seems surprised. And what the Void is a tartan? "I... I'd be honored." Oh shit! They're getting up from the table. Make yourself inconspicuous Shiloh! Dammit. They see me. Natalie already saw me, but now Leandra and William have. William gives me a small smile with his blotchy, tear-stained face. So much like a sad puppy. A sad puppy with green facial tattoos and a goatee.

Natalie grabs my arm and bends down to whisper to me, "Let's give them a moment, hm?" Sure! I've already intruded on a private moment, and was steps away from making a scene. Keep me away woman!

* * *

We give Leandra and William some time together, the sounds of sniffling and muted speech coming from Leandra's bedroom. Natalie seems very happy and pleased with herself. She wasn't crying like the other two, but she does seem to be affected. I couldn't imagine meeting cousins I've never met before. I know my whole family, and we even lived in the same house after Shianni's and Soris' parents passed.

Natalie can't wait anymore, and pushes me down the hall towards her mother's room. I shrug her off, and walk on my own. She pauses to open Carver's door, I'm guessing to see if he's there, and I continue down the hall. Where'd Leandra go off to? To find Bethany?

I stop in the doorway of Leandra's room to see William looking at himself in a mirror. He's wearing some sort of cloth draped across his body, and secured at his waist. It has a crisscrossing pattern of black on the burgundy cloth. It looks well-made, and I can appreciate the work that went into its construction. Is that what tartans are?

"They suit you." Oops. I didn't just blurt that. Oh now he's looking at me. Might as well finish the thought. "They're long enough too."

"They are." He twirls like a babe showing off a new dress. It brings a slight smile to my face. "My father was tall like me." I walk into the room, and hear Natalie behind me,

"Knock knock! Now who is this dashing cousin of mine in my mother's room?"

"I suppose it would be me?" He smiles at her. He looks happy. It's a little infectious. I walk closer to him.

"You look so much like him," I hear Leandra say. She walks into the room too. They all look happy.

"Who looks like who?" I see Natalie grab onto her sister and push her forward. She tends to be pushy.

"Bethany! This is William Amell. He's a mage too."

"You're a mage lass? What brand of magic is your forte?" I think if he smiles any wider his face will split.

"Elementalism and Force Magic. You?" Now Bethany looks happy. Everyone's happy – that's good right? Why do I still feel a little like I'm intruding on a personal moment?

"Galvanism and Spirit Healing." More hugs! Bethany's a hugger too. I've been hugged by her for killing a little house spider. I kid you not. She's worse than me with the hugging compulsions.

"Just like father." William's face just got red. Is he okay? "Except he did Force Magic too."

He got redder – huh? "Are you alright William?" Oh. I asked that, didn't I? He looks a little startled I asked that too. So totally intruding here. I'm not part of this family.

"I'm fine lassie. Just... happy." He hugs Bethany. That's sorta sweet. Did I just think that? "I need to get back to my companions." True. Alistair's alive too! And then there's those other two shems. I know I don't like the witch. She pissed me off (a lot) in the Wilds. But I don't know this Chantry sister.

"Must you leave so soon?" Leandra looks sad again!

"Aye. But I'll write! Promise me you'll get out of Lothering. The darkspawn horde is approaching and I'd like to see you all again one day." I hope the Hawkes will be okay. They've been nothing but kind and helpful to me – an elf. Not a lick of disgust in them at seeing my ears. I was pleased. I follow the shem family as we walk towards the door.

"We plan on heading to Kirkwall." Leandra kissed William's cheek! She very much reminds me of Mamae. "If you ever come to The Free Marches look us up."

"I shall." I see William give Leandra a kiss back on her cheek, and I turn towards Natalie when she clasps my shoulder. She smiles broadly and shoves me forward with a wink. The woman's occasionally infuriating. What's with the wink? I nod to Bethany and she nods back. Time to go, I guess. I grab a hold of William's forearm and drag him away as he waves at his newfound family in farewell.

I start walking towards the tavern after gesturing to Ward to follow. I turn to look up at William's face as I hear a muffled yell from Natalie coming from the house at our backs. He still seems bursting with happiness. I can't help it when I ask, "So... how was it?" Like I said, I know all my family.

"I've never felt so happy and lucky to have a family my entire life." He smiles widely again before trying to calm himself. It looks like he wants to run back to the Hawke's home. "I wonder what Alistair is going to say when he sees you?"

Oh... "Hmm," I rub my chin, "Before or after he faints like an Orlesian pansy?"

I look up to see William blinking at me, "Was that... a joke?"

I can't help but smile, "It's been known to happen."

He laughs. Loudly. "Who are you, and what have you done with the angry little lass that used to inhabit this body?"

I shrug, "I'm feeling a little happy and lucky right now too."

We walk in companionable silence for a little while, and I notice out of the corner of my eye that William's looking at the mabari to my right. "Are you afraid of Ward?"

"'Ward'?" He repeats with confusion. "You've named it, so I guess that means you're keeping it?"

I scrunch my face at him, "Ward's a _he_, and yes. He's imprinted on me. He's the same mabari I put the muzzle on, remember?"

"The... same one. You can tell?"

I pat Ward's head, "He's the same."

I see the tavern ahead, and with it I see Alistair walking beside a tall ginger-haired shem woman – this must be... what was her name? Leliana?

Alistair sees us, and he stops in his tracks. His gaze is stuck on me, and his mouth is hanging wide open with his shock. It's open wide enough that I'm almost concerned his jaw hasn't cracked. The shem woman beside him looks concernedly in the direction he's looking, just before he dashes forward. Alistair wraps me up in his armored arms before I can even utter the word 'hello'. He squeezes me, and even with his armor it's hard. Normally, a hug with a person I consider a friend is good, but not when I can't breathe. I used to hug people quite often. I like the physical warmth of being so close to someone – a friend or family member. It's nice.

"Alistair," I wheeze. "You're squishing me."

He immediately drops me to the ground, and I would've fallen over if Ward hadn't stood behind me to brace my fall. I manage to keep my footing. Barely. Oh. That aggravated my hip. I've been able to ignore it, but now I can't. I grimace and put a hand to it.

William notices and reaches towards me, "You're injured." It's not a question. I'm in a little pain now.

"I'm sorry!" Alistair squawks out. "I didn't mean to hurt you!"

I shake my head, "No. It happened on the field." I can't quite say Ostagar without risking my anger coming back. I don't want to ruin this good mood.

William's hand is still out, as he waits for me to give him permission to touch me – my head. I nod, and he does so. I nearly sigh at the feeling of his familiar numbing magic, but I do feel my eyes flutter closed. It's much, much more soothing than Bethany's.

"You're a Grey Warden as well?" questions the shem woman with a bow slung across her back. She doesn't look like any Chantry sister I've ever seen. And... she's Orlesian. Great. Hold anger in check Shiloh. She's not the same Orlesian that killed grandfather. She's not even the right gender to be.

"I am," I grunt out. I see William give me a quizzical look from my side. Good mood vanished. Sodding Orlesians. Ugh. I'll try to be polite. The other two seem to trust her. "Shiloh Tabris."

She gives me a half curtsy in her leathers. It looks odd. "I am Lay Sister Leliana, or I was. I suppose I'm just Leliana now."

A somewhat terse silence follows her words, and apparently William has the compulsion to fill it – as he usually does. "So! Shiloh survived Ostagar -"

"How," Alistair breathes and I look towards him, "H-has Duncan?"

I feel a frown pulling at my lips, "He ordered me to leave when Loghain abandoned us. He said... He said," damn this is hard, but the shem should hear it. He was close with the Commander. "His time has come." I swallow roughly, "He ordered me to see to the Blight's end."

A solemn silence befalls us this time, and I'm the one to break it when I say quietly, "William's asked me to lead, and I will... I want to follow Duncan's orders."

* * *

We fetch the witch from inside the tavern (I still don't like her), and she instantly remarked on how surprised she is to see the 'scowling elf' still yet lives. I barely held in the compulsion to snarl. Now though, we're off to the market to resupply. It's small with only a handful of people selling goods. But we all need supplies. My things were left at Ostagar, as was Alistair's. William seems to have most of his belongings with him.

"I have a question, if you don't mind my asking lassie," I look up from my rifling through the sparse dried goods on sale to see William standing nearby as he too sorts through dried herbs.

I quirk a brow. Usually he just asks. "Sure. Go ahead."

"Why have you started calling me by my name instead of shem, or something of the like?"

I tilt my head at him. What? "You don't want me to call you William?"

"No! No. I mean, yes!" He fidgets. "I was just... curious. I was wondering if there was a reason, is all."

I straighten and I look up at him, "I don't like shems," I explain. "Hate them, in fact. But, you and Alistair... we're brothers and sisters in arms. You're more than just shems. If I hated you, I couldn't work with you, and that wouldn't be good for anyone." Now the Orlesian or the witch...

"How come you don't hate us?" He clasps a hand over his mouth like he was shocked he asked.

I look at the stall owner who's looking at us with unabashed curiosity. Clearly listening to our conversation. "I'll tell you at camp. Too many ears," I explain.

* * *

After our shopping trip with purchases of enough dried meats and vegetables to last us several days and several other small things that could be useful, like extra flint, we make our way to the bridge crossing over into the other side of the village. There were no bedrolls available, and no tents. All the refugees (and there's a lot) had taken them. The only ones to have something to sleep on are the two human women. Not that it matters to me, as I've slept on the floor with little more than a blanket before. If a friend needed a place to sleep, I gladly gave up my bed for the night. No one I cared about would be put out. William seems not to like the idea of sleeping on the ground, apparently he has always had a place to sleep. Morrigan said something along the lines of the Chantry liking to pamper their pets. That didn't sit too well with the Sister. If I have to constantly break up little bickering fights between all the shems, I'm going to lose my head.

Rubbing my temples and trying, unsuccessfully, to block out everything around me, I almost trip over William as he crosses in front of me abruptly. "Sodding son of a-" my cursing stops as I notice the mage crouched in front of a crying shem child. What is he doing? I walk over and hear him say.

"Laddie, I don't think your mother is coming."

"But Mother promised," the child says between crying hiccups.

He looks around, and I see his eyes widen as an idea strikes him. "I normally wouldn't suggest this, but I think you should go to the Chantry. They'll be able to look after you until your mother can get you. Alright?" This child... is separated from his parents? I feel my face pinch as the implications form in my mind.

"Yes Ser." The boy rubs his eyes, and suddenly smiles as he points at William's face. "What is that green stuff on your face?"

"'Green stuff?'" he questions and touches right below his eye. "They're tattoos." He shakes his head, "Go along laddie. You must be off. I'll stand here and watch you go to the Chantry." The boy nods and bounces off, pausing to pat Ward on his head on his way. How can children be sad and then happy within moments? I shake my head and start off to cross the bridge. Children confuse me.

* * *

We cross out of the village, walk beside the windmill, and go up the ramp of the other side of the break in the Imperial highway. Why is this part built in stone anyway? It's not even really a bridge – it's partially built into the side of a hill. Maybe because the ground is uneven? Duncan said this and Ostagar were old Tevinter constructions. Sodding slavers. I'll never understand them. And that's a good thing.

"Flaming shit!" I curse aloud from my position up front with Ward beside me (have I told you I _love _having a mabari?), when I feel the telltale thrum in my blood. Darkspawn are up ahead. I unsheathe Holly. Leader, right. "Darkspawn ahead!"

The other two Wardens had already begun to ready themselves, but now the two who can't feel the darkspawn are prepared. I run up the embankment, and Ward lunges for the darkspawn to my right, as I swing Holly into the hip of the one before me. I break through its poorly constructed chain, and it screams out in pain with its disgusting mouth spraying spittle all over. I'll need to wash. I sidestep its retaliation to my left, turn Holly about in my grasp, and knock it in the side of its head as it slowly fumbles to right its footing with its injury. It lands on the ground, and then bursts into flame. I turn to see the witch's staff angled at the fallen 'spawn. Huh. She can make fire. I still don't like her.

I run forward to cut into the main arm of a dual wielder, as it's preoccupied with removing an arrow from its shoulder. The arm hangs by its tendons, black blood oozing from the wound, and the darkspawn moves to bodily tackle me. I'm in the midst of withdrawing Holly from my attack, and the taller 'spawn's full weight barrels into me before I can fully step backward. I fall to the ground, and it snaps at my face with its unnaturally large gaping mouth. I growl and kick out into its stomach, bucking it off of me, and attempting to wedge Holly between us. I succeed, and with a shout of victory I cut off its injured shoulder with Warden stamina and rage-induced strength, followed by cutting through its neck as I haphazardly pull Holly upwards. It slumps forward onto me in its death, and I push it quickly off of me. I'm now coated in stinking black blood. Really need to wash.

I take in my surroundings, and see two encased in stone from William's spell. I run over and quickly shatter them with quick thrusts from Holly through their sternums. The battle is over now. This was a relatively small bunch of darkspawn, but the implications from their presence is clear – the horde is closing in on Lothering. These people need to get out of here.

"Leliana!" I call to the Orlesian. She looks up from pulling her spent arrows from the corpses with a queazy grimace. She's Chantry she should know. "Are the villagers evacuating soon? The darkspawn are almost on their doorsteps."

She blinks at me. Why is my concern over humans always shocking? It's starting to become a habit. As annoying as that is. I blame the Hawke family. "The Chantry's caravans are to leave tomorrow at dawn. They will be taking as many of the refugees and villagers as they can."

I nod to her, and go to reply when a hear a male voice call out, "Oh, thank you messere! Those darkspawn were coming straight for me and my boy."

Who's talking to who? I turn to look for the source of the voice, and see William standing before a dwarven man and his fairer-haired son. I walk up to them, and the dwarven man bows to me as I come in his line of sight.

"My thanks to you too messere, and the rest of your companions."

I nod to him politely, as there's really no animosity between elves and dwarves and I really have very little experience interacting with them. "It's really no problem. It's what we do." I look behind him and his son and notice their ox-pulled cart. Traveling merchants then? "You sell wares?"

He seems a little startled by my question, but answers quickly, "Yes, messere. And my boy, Sandal, he does enchantments for weapons, armor, and the like."

I quirk a brow, "And what are these 'enchantments'?"

William answers from beside me, "They're magical enhancements created from specially processed lyrium and various other ingredients. Some of the more common enchantments are flame and ice. In the Circle, our... Tranquil can enchant our robes and staves. Not for the apprentices, of course, but the older enchanters usually." That sounds... very useful actually.

"Messere," the dwarf addresses me to catch my attention, "If you're interested in our wares and services, perhaps my boy and I could travel with your group? With all these darkspawn about, it would be safer for us to travel with a group armed such as yourselves, correct?"

I feel a frown pulling at my lips. I have to be honest with him. It's a great offer, but he should know all the same. "We're Grey Wardens, it may be too dangerous for you to travel with us."

He sucks in a breath and looks at his son briefly, "Ah, well... There's a Blight about, or so I hear. Wouldn't we be safest from the darkspawn with people who know how to fight them, such as yourselves?"

Well that's true... Unarmed and traveling the roads on their own, alone, they'd be more than vulnerable to darkspawn, bandits, and anything else. I look at William briefly, he seems to be waiting for me to make a decision. No thoughts there? I sigh, "If you're sure it's in your best interest, you can travel with us."

He clasps his hands together, and animately replies, "Thank you messere! We won't be a problem, I assure you. We'll even give you a discount on all our wares." He extends a hand out towards me, "My name's Bodahn Feddic, messere."

* * *

We found a place to camp by the sun's set. Morrigan made her own camp a little ways away from everyone else, but before she could wander off I told her we had things to discuss over the evening meal. William had commented that he was surprised the 'Chantry lass' was as useful as she was, because instead of delving into our salted and dried stores, she was able to hunt three fowl that we cooked over a spit. Or I did. I volunteered. I'm no stranger to cooking, as at home Shianni would do the hunting and the rest of us would take turns with the cooking. Tonight we had freshly baked bread that Bodahn had on hand, and some cheese Alistair acquired – we made sandwiches. Ward had the carcasses. I even invited Bodahn and Sandal to join us around the fire.

I had managed to clean up enough to cook and eat, but I'm still dirty being in my chain. I don't like it.

"Tomorrow we camp by a river," I announce.

"So these are the plans you wanted to discuss then, elf? I needed to sit here by these... buffoons to have learnt such precious information?"

I scowl at the witch as I address her, "No. I wanted to discuss our plans of travel. I understand you, Alistair, and William have decided to travel to Orzammar to secure our treaty with the dwarves. I wanted to make sure that we're all in agreement," I look towards Leliana, who nods, and then Bodahn who mutters 'where ever you wish, Warden'. I had earlier acquired Morrigan's map, with a little prodding that made us both uncomfortable, and laid it out before me after shoving the heel of my sandwich in my mouth (I'm famished!). "Orzammar's entrance is up the Frostback Mountains," I point to it for effect. "Bodahn," I look to the dwarf. "I assume you've been before?" Hey! Look! This leading stuff is really starting to come to me.

He nods, "Yes, Warden. It would take at least a week and a half of travel with the ox and cart. Lots of snow and the passes can get steep, you see."

I sigh and tuck some of my hair behind my ear. "We have enough provisions to last us until we reach the foot of the mountains, then we'll need to restock. Some of us are even without tents and bedrolls."

"Messere!" Bodahn gasps, and I look towards him, "I have at least five tents and six bedrolls for sale right now, I would not have let you go without had I known."

I smile at the dwarf. He reminds me vaguely of Adda. "I would be happy to purchase four tents and three bedrolls."

Bodahn sets me up, with a massive discount, and all his fussing is really quite adorable and amusing. I'm starting to like the dwarf.

I set up my tent, lay out my bedroll, and remove my smelly chain with a great amount of relief. I'll have to clean it some before I hunker down. I wouldn't be able to sleep comfortably with the rank smell of darkspawn blood. It's just not pleasant. I come out of my tent only to hear muttered cursing just a few feet away in a distinctive accent. When I look in its direction, I'm met with the rather hilarious sight of William attempting to set up his tent. I say 'attempting' loosely. It looks more like he's fighting with it – or at least having a verbal argument.

I walk up to him while he's scolding one of the tent's poles, "... right you bugger, you're supposed to stay straight." I clear my throat, and he startles enough that he drops the pole, before turning towards me sheepishly. "Hello Shiloh," he can't look at me. I feel a smirk pulling at my lips.

"Do you need some help?" I can't hide the laughter in my voice. My amusement makes him start to turn red in embarrassment. He's not your most graceful shem.

"If... if you would, I'd be most grateful."

I move towards him and pick up the pole he dropped, "Has no one ever taught you?"

He looks down at me with a quirked brow, "Taught me what?"

"How to set up a tent? What did you think I was asking?"

"Oh," he exclaims and covers his hand over his mouth as if to stem his words. He's unsuccessful. "I wasn't sure... exactly... that's why I asked."

I shake my head and pick up the tent's canvas. "Watch what I do. I'll teach you."

He watches with rapt attention, even offering to help as we stake the tent down. "You know lassie... you haven't answered my question from earlier."

I look at him beside me. Even crouched down as we are, I still have to look up some to see his face completely. "What question?"

"Oh. You know, how come you don't hate me or Alistair?" It wasn't safe to talk earlier in front of gossips. He looks at me like he's really curious to know, and that he's been trying to figure it out since our conversation. Maybe he has. He seems to spend a lot of time in his mind.

"Ah..." I stall. I don't want to call him my friend, unless he doesn't think of me as his. It would be... awkward. It's still weird, baffling really, that I consider two humans my friends. Very unusual. I decide to start with the ex-Templar. "Alistar's easy. Duncan favored him, and that's enough for me."

He blinks at me, "That's it? Just because Duncan liked him?"

I nod, "Duncan spoke highly of him. That was enough for me to tolerate him. Now I... think I can handle him better."

He scoots closer, "And why did Duncan's word carry so much weight?"

I finish with the stake, and sit on my feet as I turn partially towards him. This is apparently going to be a longer conversation than I first thought. "Duncan was friends with my mother. My Mamae. She trusted him, so I did too."

He's apparently surprised by this, if the way his eyes are widening is any indication. Damn. How come I never noticed how blue they were before? Same color as Natalie's. Huh. "Did you know Duncan well?"

I shake my head, "Only from Mamae's stories." I look into my lap. I don't really want to continue down this line of conversation. Apparently he got the hint from my tone.

"And me?" I look back up at him. "Why don't you hate me?"

I tilt my head at him, "You're..." I trail off. Why don't I hate him? "You've only ever helped me. You've never hurt me." Oh shit. Why did I say the last part? Now I sound like the helpless maiden. I'm so _not _the helpless maiden.

Don't look at me like I'm the helpless maiden. Don't – shit. He's giving me that look. The same look I was likely giving him when I had the urge to hug him. I look like the sad puppy now. Great.

"Were you-" Did his voice just crack? He clears his throat. "D-did someone hurt you Shiloh?"

I shake my head, "Not me." _Shianni_. "Someone I cared for." I stand up abruptly. I've said too much. I'm not the helpless maiden, dammit! "I have to go. Tell Alistair I'll take second watch." I won't be able to sleep now anyway.

* * *

The next morning I can _feel _William's eyes boring into me. When I look at him he quickly looks away, but not before I catch the same concerned look on his face from last night. Ugh._ Don't show weakness in front of the shems Shiloh. You should know better. Mamae taught you to be brave and strong. Don't be weak_. Now if only I could listen to myself better. This is what I get for befriending shems. I'm all messed up now.

I've changed into my armor, and am breaking down my tent when William finally approaches me. I knew he would eventually. Actually didn't think he'd hold out as long as he had. I expected him to want to 'chat' first thing in the morning.

"You have a hole in your chain," Huh? I look at him and he quickly continues, "It doesn't look very safe. You should probably fix it."

What the sodding Void is he talking about? What is he doing? "I don't have the coin for a blacksmith." It's true. We barely had enough to prepare ourselves for Orzammar.

"Oh," he replies and rubs the back of his neck before nervously continuing, "I should probably apologize -"

I cut him off, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

He shakes his head, and is apparently finding it difficult to look at me. What? My weakness is repulsive? "I shouldn't have asked."

"Look," I ground out. I'm so close to making a scene. "I'm the one who answered. I didn't have to. Okay? I get it. You heal people. You ask questions. It's just what you do."

He shakes his head again, "It wasn't any of my business, lassie. I still shouldn't-"

I grab him by his arm and pull him down to my eye level. Sodding shem can't understand. "You don't need to apologize." My face is pinched in aggravation, and his in surprise. I stare him down until he relents with a nod, and I release him. I look towards his tent that is still up, "Do you need help taking your tent down?"

We find a place secluded in the trees near enough to a river for my liking when we go to make camp. The Orlesian is practically bouncing with excitement, as we eat the rabbit stew I made. What? I like to cook, got a problem with that?

"Oh, I have the most lovely soaps. Lavender," I grimace, "vanilla, rose, and even honey." Oh. Honey sounds nice. I did not just think that about soap.

Still... I do still kinda stink like darkspawn blood... I look towards Leliana, "Could I borrow the honey?" I ask after swallowing my mouthful.

"Of course!" She clasps her hands together. A little excited about soap, aren't we? "In fact, I have scented oils that you can use for your skin too. Even a warrior would like to have soft skin, no?" She rifles through her bag near her, "Do you have a preference?"

Why am I even considering using the oils? "Not a flower."

"Oh!" she exclaims and holds up a small brown bottle, "I have almond! It should compliment the honey quite well." She pulls out a small wrapped package that I'm assuming is the soap. "Would you like to go to the river together? I could help you with your hair. And Morrigan! We can bring her along too. It will be just like the bathhouses in Orlais. Except the water won't be heated, or as clean."

I heard a choking sound vaguely coming from across the fire where Alistair and William are sitting during the Orlesian's ramble. Whatever. They can find this amusing if they want. What in the Void do I say to the shem? "Ah..." I look across the way towards where Morrigan is sitting in her own little camp. "I don't think Morrigan would go." Yes! Let her get distracted with convincing the witch, and then I can sneak off to the river with the soap and oil without having to be a bitch to her. That's a good idea.

The other ginger frowns, "Hm. That's true. She's not the most... sociable." She looks towards me and her eagerness comes back, "We can still go though. I can show you how to use the oil if you're unfamiliar." I just heard another choking sound. This isn't funny!

I can't get out of this, can I? It is her soap and oil... Ugh. I'm going to have to buy my own soap for the future. "Fine," I grumble. I can suffer. I smell like death. "But just this once."

* * *

The next few days are relatively uneventful. We take care of a small group of bandits on the fourth day, and today, the fifth, we're about two days out from the base of the Frostbacks. Morrigan doesn't talk to anyone much, except to pester Alistair or make William blush – which is rather amusing. I have no idea what she's saying to him though. The Orlesian likes to try to chat my ear off, and most times I just nod or grunt affirmatively so I'm not rude. I've... grown to hate her less since I found out she's actually Ferelden-born. I've been talking to Bodahn here and there too, and his son Sandal seems to really like Ward. I think Ward likes the extra attention too.

It's nighttime, and I've just finished my shift at watch. I had... a disturbing nightmare last night, and I'm not eager to have a repeat of it. Since talking to William those few days ago, I've been having nightmares of darkspawn and my cousins – darkspawn killing my cousins. But last night, I saw the same dragon from the Joining. The same dragon that killed Mamae in my dream. It and the darkspawn... they... I can't even think about it. There was just so much blood and death. William was on shift then, as we've been rotating them, and he woke me up from the nightmare. I accidentally punched him in the eye when I woke. It's just a reflex I've always had from nightmares. I felt bad at first, and then I realized he was in my tent without permission. I was pretty pissy with him when I told him about the nightmare after his prodding. He told me this morning that he had one too when he went to sleep later that night. Alistair was the one to wake him then, as I was taking a midnight walk with Ward. He told me that Alistair said that they're Warden nightmares. That they're actually the darkspawn talking to each other. Apparently we get these lovely things at least a few times a week. It's a side effect from the taint. I wonder why he waited so long to tell us. Would it really have been so difficult to say 'Oh, by the way. You'll have chronic darkspawn-filled nightmares that are actually them talking to each other.' It would've been a good idea to mention that sooner, don't you think?

So. Now I can't sleep. Pretty understandable, right? I look over at the mabari lying beside me. Apparently Ward can sleep. Lucky sodding mabari. I throw the blanket off of me and sit up. Maybe William will have some sort of potion or something I can take.

I pad over to his tent after petting Ward as he twitched in his sleep. William's tent is set between mine and the Orlesian's, of which I'm thankful, as it gives me some distance from the woman. I knock on one of the tent's poles, as I can see the muted lamplight peaking out from beneath the canvas – he's still awake. I hear a soft scraping sound followed by a muffled curse. What is he doing?

"Who's there?" he asks from within his tent.

"Shiloh." I reply simply.

"And," he's still talking to me from within his tent. Shem, I'm not talking to a piece of canvas. "what exactly is it you're calling on me for in the middle of the night? Is something the matter?"

I sigh, and rub at my face. "Can I come in?"

"In?" Did he just squeak? Now he starts acting like he has boundaries? "Uh... Just one moment lassie."

I see him crouched slightly as he pulls aside the canvas and nervously motions for me to enter. He's acting strange again. Poor strange shem.

I tilt my head at him as I take in his appearance. He's in a tunic and trousers he'd bought from Bodan to sleep in. I don't know how he was sleeping before, but he's been complaining as it's been getting colder the closer we get to the Frostbacks. The trousers he's wearing are far too short for him, and he's shoeless. His hair is loose out of it's typical tail too, which looks... different. Not bad or anything, just different. But what catches my eye is his tunic.

"Why's your tunic covered in ink?" There's a line of black splotches right across the white linen.

He turns a little pink and rakes a hand through the top of his long hair. "I was in the middle of writing in my journal when you knocked," he explains quickly.

"Oh," I pause for a moment. Awkward. Let's just get right to it, shall we? "I can't sleep."

He sighs loudly, "Neither can I lass."

"You don't, um," why am I uncomfortable now? I'm more embarrassed that I've caught him with his hair down, than I was when he was shirtless in the Wilds. I confuse myself sometimes. "Do you have a potion or something for sleep?"

He shakes his head, "Unfortunately I don't have the correct reagents to make a sleeping draught."

"Son of a flaming pile of mabari shit!" I curse and cross my arms. What the fuck am I going to do now? Wait. Is he... laughing at me? I look towards him. I'm so very much scowling.

He puts his hands up placidly. "You could try asking Morrigan for help. She knows entropic magics, spells that target the life force, but... she may just be as likely to curse you with a nightmare as she is to help you sleep."

I snort. "Sounds like the witch." I'm just going to have to recite all the songs in my head until I can sleep. Sounds exciting!

I turn to leave, but his voice stops me. "You don't like Morrigan much, do you lass?"

Still on my opinions of people, are we? Ugh. I turn towards him once again, "The witch... is a bitch." Heh. I rhymed. Sleep deprivation people.

"And Leliana," He asks about. I swear if he's going to ask about Bodahn, Sandal and Ward too, I'm leaving. "Do you like her?"

"Not really. She's Orelsian," I reply instantly. "Her Ferelden birth only helps a little. She also talks too much about dresses and flowers. It's annoying."

He tilts his head at me, "You don't like dresses or flowers?"

Why is he asking so many questions? Apparently he thinks chatting with me will cure our insomnia. I think laying in my bedroll reciting the name-day song would work better. "No." I turn to leave, "I'm going to try to sleep again." I pull the canvas of the tent's opening back. "Goodnight," I say before I forget. Friends wish their friends 'goodnight', right? At least I did with my friends back home.

* * *

It's the end of our first day climbing the mountain pass. It's going to be a long trip. We had come across a small village near the foot of the mountain, and were able to purchase more dried foods, bread, a few cloaks and extra blankets. I knew we would need it. We're all pretty damn cold, and it'll only get colder. The ox seems to be fairing well despite it being in the open. I was concerned about the animal at first. But it's doing much better than me, Leliana and William. It seems the three of us aren't used to trudging through piles of snow at least waist deep. Rather understandable given where we're from. Myself – alienage, William – Circle, Leliana – Orlais. We're not mountainfolk. Far sodding far from it.

When we set up camp, it took twice as long as it normally does. We had to clear out the snow and find a place relatively sheltered from the wind. Pine trees I love you. I'm cold. And I don't like it very much. It makes me a _little_ agitated.

Currently, I'm huddled as close as I can to the fire, stew in hand, and wishing that chain wasn't so cold. Stew warm me. Please?

"I wish I could conjure flame," I hear William whisper. I wish I could lie in the fire without being burnt. The tips of my ears are so cold! It's only going to get colder. I should stop reminding myself that.

I'm halfway through my bowl of stew when I feel it – a cold most definitely not caused by the snow. Darkspawn.

Alistair felt it first, as he had explained since he's been a Warden for longer, and was halfway to standing when I dropped my bowl and pulled Holly into my grasp while I announced, "Darkspawn are coming!"

Ward, being the mabari he is, out paced us as we ran in the direction of the group. There's at least a dozen, maybe more like a dozen and a half. The cold thrum is a little difficult to distinguish when far enough away. Which somewhat sucks. A lot.

There's a dozen and a half of the flaming bastards.

I shout to the nearest group to direct them my way, "Come and get me Blighters!"

Three charge after me, and I swing Holly back with my legs bent and angled enough to direct her swipe through the arms and chests of those first 'spawn to charge me. The first one goes down, and is motionless in the snow. The other two are not injured enough to fall. I jump backwards to avoid one of the 'spawn's crooked longswords and slip in the slick melting snow near the bleeding corpse. I fall to a knee, but manage to successfully get Holly up to block the 'spawn's blade. I push back and make it too stumble, and thrust out to cut through its poorly protected kneecap. It screams out in pain, but before I can finish it, or stand, the other darkspawn pierces me in the shoulder with one of its daggers. I growl in my mounting anger, and turn Holly upwards. From the angle I'm at, I easily push through its one-armed defense and gut it from stomach to chest. It slumps forward beside me. I struggle to stand in the sticky black-stained snow, and behead the critically injured darkspawn that still lived. I feel a numbing healing from William's magic, and can't feel the sting of my injured shoulder anymore once I finish the attack. It's good he's keeping tabs on the injuries. Wouldn't be able to last as long if I could feel everything.

I try to run to the nearest darkspawn, but in my sodding gore-covered boots, I more slide on the snow. Right into its shield. That didn't feel nice. Not at all. I'm starting to get really pissed with the snow. I push back and crouch low, slicing as deep as I can into its hip with its plated leather armor. It retaliates by bashing me in the head with its shield before I can stand. I skid and sprawl in the damnable snow with Holly painful inches away from my hands, and my vision blurry from the impact. The darkspawn suddenly seizes with William's magic before it can swing its sword into my chest, and sprouts two of Leliana's arrows in its neck. I owe them each one for saving my arse.

I run towards Ward, who seems to be doing better in the snow than me, and I back up my mabari against the two genlocks he's taking turns snipping at. One we finish with those little buggers, the battle is just about over. The two mages manage to burn and sizzle the last.

"See! Orzammar is just spilling darkspawn," pants William as he walks over towards the three warriors of our group. He grimaces as he takes stock of us three: Alistair, Ward and myself. We're each just a _little _injured. "Have I mentioned how much I hate snow? It's very dangerous, as you can probably tell."

The next day we set as quick of a pace as we dare in the increasing coldness and height of snow. Ward is low enough to the ground that we've had to put him in the back of Bodahn's cart just so he won't stay constantly buried. Poor thing. I've covered him with two blankets too. He needs more fur. None of us want to be in this weather any longer, and with all the darkspawn roaming about, I'm curious to see how the dwarves are fairing. I wonder if it's as run down as the southern lands seem to be getting?

We cross over a stone bridge, and finally see a settlement of sorts before large stone doors built into the mountain's face – Orzammar. Finally! We just need to talk to whoever is in charge about the treaty, and we can warm up. I'm also in need of another bath, as I'm sure everyone else is just dying for a warm soak. Snowy sticky darkspawn blood. It's not pleasant. Let's hope Orzammar isn't overrun, yes?


	9. (Apollo Wings) The Bleeding Heart

Author note: I bet you all dear readers are groaning - more long updates! Where is all our spare time going?

And now Musicalrain has left me with actual campaign to write when she's the leader? Argh...

Recap on traveling it is :P as well as stalling - because I'm evil.

Also - I speak French quite fluently for living there for two years (obviously this chapter contains Orlesian) - but my spelling and grammar may not be the best. So if anyone sees a mistake - do pop it in a review. I shan't be offended.

* * *

**William Amell**

I choked on the piece of rabbit I was chewing when Leliana said that they were going to bathe like in the Orlesian bathhouses. Alistair did too. We shared a look between us, a pair of pursed lip smirks. Orlesian bathhouse. Did Shiloh understand the slang? Did Leliana. Oh... they're too naive. I'm actually surprised Alistair knows what one is...

Then again - apprentices have mouths like sewage pipes. They're bound to use such terms at some point near the templars.

I must explain. Orlesian bathhouse is slang for a house of ill repute. Especially if said house is actually plumbed with a pool of some kind in. I remember Anders coming back from solitary confinement after his third escape attempt - telling us all the slang and language he picked up. A very bad influence that fellow Spirit Healer. How he managed to escape so many times and not get the brand - I have no idea. Irving was rather protective of the Ponderous Mages. If something happened to one of it it usually affected all of us. All three.

"So you see - magic is rather boring." I continued my actually speaking with the ex-templar. "It's all so easily explainable."

"I can see now why they made you do extra-curriculars." Alistair sighed. "I met a Ponderous Mage once during my early training. They made him Tranquil."

"We can still go though. I can show you how to use the oil if you're unfamiliar." Alistair and I choked again. Oil. Ladies - and oil. Dammit I believe the fire got hotter. I can feel the heat burning on my cheeks. Oh... Shiloh and Leliana are both staring at us.

"Did I tell you Alistair - about why I was once put in solitary for a week?" That made them stop staring as they picked up to go wash. Now I'm thinking about them... no. Not going to do it. Bad idea. I'm pretty sure Shiloh reads my thoughts sometimes.

"Why? You're not maleficar or evil..." He trailed off and took another spoonful of the stew.

"I figured out how they made mages Tranquil and that templars take lyrium. In the same week mind you. Irving wasn't pleased when they did that to me. I don't know why though." Alistair was staring at me now.

"They're heavily guarded secrets in the order. Well - the lyrium less so. But still. You stole the papers or overheard?" He thought I'm sneaky enough to do something like that? Bless his little stinking cotton socks.

"I said I figured it out. It wasn't that difficult. You all hum with this resonance that lyrium has - even you. Where do you keep your lyrium supply - in case I run out?" I scraped the last of the stew out of my bowl and savored the flavors. It's surprising how tasty the food has been so far. I was expecting more tatties and such but they seem happy enough to feed both myself and Morrigan with meat. It's rather a nice change that.

"I don't take lyrium." Alistair was furrowing his brow. "I never took my vows because Duncan... Duncan recruited me." Oh - he looked rather sad again.

"I hardly knew him - but I'm sure he was alright. He saved me from Tranquility you know. I..." Shit - how do you tell someone who used to be a templar that I helped a blood mage escape the circle? "It's a story for another time."

"He was a good man - he didn't deserve to die the way he did." Alistair bit hard onto his spoon.

"None of us get to pick how we pass. It happens everyday and still there's no choice." I gave him a wan smile.

"That's really wise William... have you... have you lost anyone near to you?" Ouch... I haven't told him about meeting the Hawke family yet have? When I learnt my mother and father...

"See my tartans?" I gestured to the sash over my shoulders which tied to my waist. "When a man in Starkhaven passes on - his eldest gets them. I... met someone in Lothering. Family and they passed these onto me." It's a common tradition to pass such items on in most places as far as I'm aware.

"I see. It's strange - I wish I had something to remember him by." Alistair stared over at the fire. "I bet that sounds really materialistic."

"Not at all. But memories are worth more than objects." I took a deep breath. "In truth I remember very little about my father. He was tall, looked a lot like me but without the tattoos. He smoked a pipe, he was an archer - and... he played the bagpipes. I think... It could just be the fantasies of a lad who didn't know much about the family he's from but they were a sign of the Starkhaven infantry. I respectable thing to be." Alistair was still looking into the fire. I hadn't said anything comforting whatsoever. What use is talking like there isn't a tomorrow when the words mean nothing? Argh.

"I sometimes forget that you didn't really know your parents." I looked over at me and gave me a weak smile. "Being a mage." Not the only reason but I'll accept it.

"Did you know yours?" I found myself asking. His face dropped again. Terrible question obviously. Had Duncan replaced a dead father figure for him? Now he's lost both? What sort of person am I to ask such terrible questions? I do it all the time - I end up apologizing more often than not. To whit Shiloh barked at me. Scary that lass when she wants to be.

"I know who I was told was my father." Alistair shrugged. "I'm a bastard you see."

"Fair enough. I'm going to write in my journal. I'll speak to you later." I excused myself and went into my tent. I make people feel terrible. I'm a horrid person sometimes. It's the lack of social skills. I'd both made Alistair think about Duncan and the fact he never really had a family. Why do I do such stupid things?

* * *

My journal was a mess of theories on how Alistair resonated like lyrium without taking it. I spent too much time on this and I've hardly spoken for a while. We're only two days from Orzammar - so it's been plaguing my thoughts.

I must be slightly addled from my time in Ostagar but the only theory I have that even seems vaguely probable is that one of his parents is a mage. That could explain how he was told who his father was. If he'd no memories of them. But surely he'd be able to say something like that to me? I'm not going to be prejudiced about that.

Perhaps if I thought about it I'd think about which mages in the tower might look a little like him. He's got a very Ferelden accent so I'd assume that at least one of his parents is from this country. Then he'd feel comfortable enough to tell me the name. I could arrange a reunion! I know just how wonderful it is to meet family you never knew.

I came back out my tent for my watch tonight, wrapped up with the horrible red robes, my sleeping tunic and trousers as well as my father's tartans for warmth. I'm working with Leliana. Shiloh took first watch with Ward and Alistair drew the short straw with Morrigan on third. Shiloh was rather happy not to be with either of the women but Alistair had groused. "Nice evening isn't it lass?" I sat next to her on her perch on the log, staring out into the bleak snowy distance. There wasn't any snow as of yet where we are but it's still bloody cold.

"It is. I was just thinking." She smiled weakly.

"I've been told I'm a good person to bounce talk at. But you can't be subtle. I'm rather shit at picking up on that sort of thing." It has been said. Subtle is not my thing. Sneaky mage skills left alone.

"I'll keep that in mind then. I was thinking... my life in Lothering. I provided succor for the ill and infirm. Spoke the Maker's word. Now I live by my bow and the land. But I will be doing good again. I will help defeat the Blight with you, Alistair and Shiloh."

"Quick question. How does a Chantry lass learn how to fire a bow as you do?" She laughed a little. I wonder why. I suppose I do just come out with questions every so often - but my companions aren't to know exactly why.

"I was a traveling minstrel if you must know. One picks up certain skills whilst living on one's wits no?" That is rather true. I've learnt - I'm learning how to pitch a bloody tent. Stupid poles not staying straight and the canvas having it's own mind. Shiloh must have the patience of a saint when it comes to that downfall of mine. Not that she has much patience for other things.

"Do you play an instrument?" Well that was a rather stupid question wasn't it now William? She has a lute right there - right next to her tent. Any minstrel worth their salt would play an instrument anyway - even if they didn't carry it at all times.

"You know the answer to that." Leliana smirked. "Do you know any songs from Starkhaven?" Hmm... when did I tell her where I was from? But then again - if you knew the accent it wasn't difficult to guess.

"Not one." I sighed. "I don't have many memories of my younger life lass." I picked up a stick and noted that Ward had been chewing it from the state of the bark. Strange animal. "How about a song from your youth? I'm sure it's rather more entertaining."

"How about one to occupy us for a while?" Leliana smiled brightly and picked up her lute. Her fingers naturally seemed to settle on the right places and she opened her mouth to sing. I settled myself for a song.

Au clair de la lune  
Mon ami Pierrot  
Prete-moi ta plume  
Pour écrire un mot.

Ma chandelle est morte  
Je n'ai plus de feu  
Ouvre-moi ta porte  
Pour l'amour de Dieu.

Au clair de la lune  
Pierrot repondit  
Je n'ai pas de plume  
Je suis dans mon lit.

Va chez la voisine  
Je crois qu'elle y est  
Car dans sa cuisine  
On bat le briquet.

Au clair de la lune  
L'aimable Harlequin  
Frappe chez la brune  
Elle repond soudain.

Qui frappe de la sorte?  
Il dit a son tour  
Ouvrez votre porte  
Pour le Dieu d'Amour.

Au clair de la lune  
On n'y voit qu'un peu  
On chercha la plume  
On chercha du feu

En cherchant d'la sorte  
Je ne sais ce qu'on trouva  
Mais je sais que la porte  
Sur eux se ferma.

"Leliana, qui était magnifique!" Her eyes widened as she put down the lute. She had a rather melodious voice, just pitched with this melancholy. It almost made me sad that we'd taken her from Lothering - providing succor as she put it. Was she not happy? The song was rather sad in it's own way, speaking of looking for a pen and a flame.

"I did not know you spoke Orlesian. Any more secrets that you've been hiding William?" Leliana stared at me for a moment - as if trying to divining into my very soul. It was a rather intrusive gaze and I shifted on my seating.

"I speak Tevine and a little Nevarran too." I shrugged. "You weren't there when I told everyone about being a Ponderous Mage."

"I have... heard of them. But never have I met one. I assume you are a-" I cut her off. I'd had this treatment from other apprentices when they first found out. People skipping over the issue when they actually knew what it was.

"I am. But because of it I had lots of extra lessons. History, languages... and you wouldn't believe what else." I groaned, remembering the dancing lessons. Being made to dance with one of the Tranquil and their precise if emotionless ways. "But I'm not interesting. So Au Claire De La Lune. It's a rather old song? Who taught it to you?"

"Ah!" She quirked her lips into a tight smile. "That would be the woman who brought me up. A grand noblewoman called Lady Cecile. My mother worked for her when she passed away so she took me in as her own."

"She must have been a sweet woman to have done that." I felt the urge to just sit here and stare at the snow. We should be in Orzammar soon - two days. Out of this bloody freezing wind and past that horrid looking snow - no matter how beautifully stark it is - I have a deep seated hatred for adverse weather conditions - rain and snow look to be worst. "Do you remember much about your... um... actual family?"

"Not much. But I have this..." Leliana scrambled over to her tent and came back with her bag of soaps, picking one out and holding it to my nose. A rather floral scent, pale blue in color with this tiny musky thing going on. I'm stumped, I HAVE smelt this before but for the life of me I have no idea. "This flower is known as Andraste's Grace. It's all I remember of my mother." Andraste's Grace! It's a... well... I can feel myself blushing. It's a contraceptive plant - stewed in water overnight. "Are you well?"

"Huh? Oh... I'm fine lass. Rather tired but it's cold and we've been traveling a fair while now." Leliana nodded in agreement and hurriedly put the soap back in her tent. Truth avoided. I'm thinking Leliana is either one of the most naive persons I've ever met or she's exceptionally coy and enjoys seeing me get uncomfortable.

We stayed on watch in companionable silence, myself having been able to get my journal and put in another entry at the back - where I've been putting notes on all the people I've been traveling with.

_Leliana_

_- She likes flowers; Andraste's Grace reminds her of her mother and is pleasantly surprised to hear me speak Orlesian. She has a voice that is hauntingly bittersweet when she sang Au Claire De La Lune. But she did not really know her parents. She was brought up by a lady called Cecile. I think she is troubled. She used to be a traveling minstrel._

I need to keep tabs on what I know about people. I'll be muddled otherwise. Not that anyone is the same, I just get people in general confused. I have two pages dedicated to Alistair because of how much I've been thinking about the Lyrium thing. I have barely anything on Morrigan.

_Morrigan_

_Elementalist, Entropy user, Shapeshifter._

_- I spoke to her yesterday about shapeshifting and how she learnt it. Apparently Flemeth taught her. She said I was practical when I said she wasn't an abomination to be put to the torch though because of her abilities and apostasy. Practicality had nothing to do with it though. She isn't turned inside out as a body for a demon nor from what I have seen is Shapeshifting isn't that evil. I must ask at some point how Flemeth learnt. Mouse is a shapeshifter. There may be a connection._

She's another one who likes making me blush. In fact - all three women I'm traveling with seem to do it. Shiloh... what can I say. I have hardly anything.

_Shiloh_

_- Shiloh uses a sword as tall as herself and every time I see her swing Holly I can't believe the sight. The strength she has is incredible. I asked her to lead the group because she's not just physically strong. She is rather self-sacrificing in her own way. I know she hates the other women in this group we have but whenever she gets annoyed with one of them she'll look at Alistair or myself and takes a couple of deep breaths. I think she'd rather just bifurcate them with Holly but there's something holding her back. _

They're hardly in depth analysis of people - but it's enough. It helps order the thoughts in my head to write things down.

* * *

I can't sleep. The darkspawn nightmares are wearing me down. My watch shift with Leliana has been over a while and Alistair and Morrigan had an argument for a while before just leaving the camp in silence. I pulled out my journal from it's place in my satchel and lit a match on my stubble to light my lantern.

I started another entry on the events that have happened so far. I'm going to have to get more bookmarks. I have one at the part about plants, my companions, magic, the Grey Wardens, healing and the effects of a prolonged waiting, then one for where my next daily entry should be.

_Today has been rather interesting. Leliana played the lute. I think they're guessing things about me and it'll only be a matter of time before I have to tell them. My headaches have been worse and I've never been so happy for Spirit Healing. I asked Morrigan about how entropy magics can be learnt and she laughed before telling me how. I'll have to find somewhere to purchase a book on it. Somehow she makes me feel rather idiotic when I ask questions. I think the headaches come from when I'm not keeping my mi- _

-Knock- the tent shuddered as the tent pole was rapped on and I jogged my quill across the page. "Shit." I muttered to myself. Not only had the quill jogged. The ink wasn't dry and I not have a line of small black dots across my new sleeping tunic. "Who's there?"

There was a brief pause before the person answered. "Shiloh."

I pushed a blotting page into my journal and slipped it into my satchel again. "And what exactly is it you're calling on me for in the middle of the night?" Damn... mind is wandering places I'd get killed for. "Is something the matter?"

"Can I come in?" Ah... the whole tent is in disarray. A cluttered tent isn't a good thing.

"In?" Shit - my voice was up several octaves. I'd be surprised if no-one but Ward heard that. "Uh... Just one moment lassie." I got onto my knees and then into a crouch to let Shiloh into the tent. She looked at me with a quizzical expression before moving through the canvas tent flaps. She was in her loose tunic and hose, clunky boots - but how can blame her with the cold?

I fell back onto my behind - the landing cushioned by my bedroll. This is - odd. There's a lass in my tent. She's looking at me and for the life of me I can't think of what to say. "Why's your tunic covered in ink?" Huh... oh. I... well this is embarrassing. I raked a hand through my hair - I want to hide behind it. I can feel the pink heating on my cheeks.

"I was in the middle of writing in my journal when you knocked." I muttered it as quickly as possible. I think everyone knows how much I write but nobody else has the compulsion and it makes me feel odd. I try to not feel so odd. I guess asking questions to other people means they don't pay too much attention to me.

"Oh." She looked around my tent and I find myself fiddling with the quill I chucked atop my satchel. Ah bollocks - there's a black circle on the red robes. That'll never come out. Robes are difficult to clean - blood - easy enough with scrubbing. Ink - not so much. "I can't sleep." She blurted it out and I have to think a moment to understand.

I sighed. "Neither can I lass." But I bet you're not just dealing with the darkspawn dreams. These headaches. I'm going to look through my old herbalist notes. See if I can find something that'll numb it for a while. I almost wish I could sleep to be away from them sometimes. For all my life I can remember there's always been a headache in the background.

"You don't, um," She trailed off. Her heart shaped face lit up pink and she bit her lip as she put a stray bit of hair behind her ear. Is it wrong to find that utterly adorable? The almost stoic elf I'd asked to be the leader could have surprisingly girly moments. "Do you have a potion or something for sleep?"

I shake my head, my hair slipping down the front of my sleeping tunic - it's just shy of the black dots. Not that black ink would make a difference to my hair. I might have to start putting it into a plait for sleep. Leliana almost screamed bloody murder when she saw the state of my brush - the tangles of hair in it. "Unfortunately I don't have the correct reagents to make a sleeping draught." Or the skill. Not that I'll mention it. Sleeping draught though - an interesting potion, fairly difficult to get the strength right.

"Son of a flaming pile of mabari shit!" Oh... I laugh. She's crossed her arms and is scowling at a space of blank canvas. That's the single most ridiculous remark I've ever heard when it comes to magic and potions. Shit - she just looked at me. The scowl is now directed at me. I feel incredibly sobered by it. I have to put things right - Shiloh just wants to sleep. Think... how could she get into the Fade?

"You could try asking Morrigan for help. She knows entropic magics, spells that target the life force, but... she may just be as likely to curse you with a nightmare as she is to help you sleep." Shiloh just snorts.

"Sounds like the witch." She turns on the spot but the question is already begging out.

"You don't like Morrigan much, do you lass?" She turns back around again. Did I tell her Flemeth made us take Morrigan to look after during the Blight? I suppose it's similar to Bodahn and Sandal - protection with the Grey Wardens while the darkspawn are on the loose.

"The witch... is a bitch." Shiloh smirks to herself. Ah - she's a poet and she doesn't know it.

"And Leliana, do you like her?" I asked. Does she know about how almost ingrained the Chantry sister's sadness is? That she even sings sadly?

"Not really. She's Orlesian. Her Ferelden birth only helps a little. She also talks too much about dresses and flowers. It's annoying." Well that was cuttingly blunt. Doesn't like either Leliana or Morrigan. But I knew that - I just wanted to know why. She didn't say much but there was something underlying her meaning and I don't know it. But about dresses and flowers...Really? I thought the fairer gender like that sort of thing.

"You don't like dresses or flowers?"

"No. I'm going to try to sleep again." She pulls open the tent flaps and a gust of wind freezes me. Well I'm going to find it even more difficult to sleep now. "Goodnight."

She's gone when I say it back. That was rather abrupt. I know people find the way I ask questions so much odd - but I can't help it really. They simmer in my brain until it feels like I'm wading in goo to think about other things.

But it gives me something else to add to the small part in my journal dedicated to understanding my companions. Shiloh doesn't like Orlesians or flowers or dresses.

* * *

We hurried the way to Orzammar after encountering darkspawn the next day. As we neared the point on the map Bodahn started leading us through a pass and over a stone bridge. A huge pair of stone doors were seemingly carved into the side of the mountain. It's an awe-inspiring sight and not one I'd ever thought I'd see with my own eyes. In a book maybe - rendered by an adventurer or scholar. But not like this.

"There's something wrong here Wardens." Bodahn hopped off his cart. "Can you see all the merchants outside?" Bloody stupid - it's so cold I think if I could do flames they'd come out frozen. So why? If I were one of them I'd forgo looking at this scenery and go straight inside.

"Just fucking fantastic." Shiloh grumbled. Now lass - we don't know what's wrong - it could be something as simple as a bit of a cave-in at the entrance - and I can fix that. Or it could just be a queue. There might be some waiting time and we'll have to set up camp awhile.

"Well we'll just have to see what is wrong and try to fix the problem no?" Leliana chimed. Shiloh glared at her.

"Who made you leader shem?" Biting... I'm staying out of this.

"Alistair..." I don't know why I find it easy to talk to a templar of all people. Well - whisper. I'm not getting glared at. "Let's scout ahead and see what's happening."

"Good idea." We casually walked past the brewing argument where Leliana was trying her best to apologize and Shiloh was rubbing her temples - sighing. She just looked at me.

"And where are you two going?" Attention - drawn. Fuck.

"Just going to see what the problem is lass. Could be a simple cave-in and I can fix that no problem." Her mouth pinched to the side and she nodded.

"Report back in ten. I want the full news."

"Aye aye captain Shiloh Ser!" I mocked a salute - making her smile before rushing off. Her good moods don't last too long from experience. Alistair and I walked in silence as we neared the great stone doors and were met with two men, one human and the other dwarven almost drawing blades. The human one had back-up of three others though.

"In the name of the Regent I demand that you to let us in to speak with your King! We've been waiting near three days!" The human one spat at the dwarf. The dwarf merely crossed his arms. Regent? When did Ferelden have a Regent? Did something happen I'm not aware of?

"This land is in trust to the assembly. Unfortunately for you - King Endrin rejoined with the Stone three weeks ago. We will not see you while Orzammar is in chaos. Now leave." Fuck. I've read our little treaty. Only the King can address it. We could try our luck with this guard though. He might just understand darkspawn seeing as he's a dwarf. I understand the darkspawn actually come from Orzammar.

"Why you jumped up little-"

"What appears to be the matter?" I broke them up. Balls of steel here.

"This piece of shit won't let us in!" The human answered me. Rather nice thing to say about the person who can let you into Orzammar now isn't it?

"This man thinks threatening me will allow him entrance to Orzammar when there is nobody to speak to him. I have told him to return to his Regent but he never listens." The dwarf rolled his eyes. "If you're asking about coming in cloudhead you're out of luck."

"I..." I reached into my satchel and pulled out the correct treaty - it had the dark blue seal on it so was rather different to the red Magi or green Dalish ones. "I have a treaty compelling the dwarves of Orzammar to lend their aid in the event of a Blight." The dwarf took his time to look at the whole of me before requesting a look at the treaty.

I felt the eyes of all four men who were also looking to gain entrance to Orzammar on me and shifted awkwardly.

"Grey Warden eh? Rather spindly aren't you?" He rubbed his forehead when he'd finished a brief reading. "But you're allowed in. With no King I can't promise you'll get listened to but the Assembly might hear you out." Well that's better than nothing. I haven't a clue what an assembly is but I assume it's like a group that can work on behalf of a King.

"What? You'll let in the traitors to Ferelden! Regent Loghain will not be happy about this." The man who had been arguing with the dwarf was now drawing dual daggers. Fuck. I grasped for the loose static and let him feel them for a moment before letting him go. He was blinking in wide-eyed terror, his mouth lax and sweat beaded on his forehead. There isn't going to be death today.

"Tell Loghain he'll have the same treatment if he tries to get involved with Grey Warden affairs." Sometimes it's quite easy to rely on the fact people are rather wary of mages. It makes some things rather easier.

"You're letting him go?" Alistair - who had been oddly quiet throughout the whole thing was scowling. Two scowling Grey Wardens. Just wonderful.

"I don't kill people." I sighed. "Notice now I don't even kill bandits when we get attacked? It's a life. What right do I have to take it? Sure - I'll hurt the bastards but I don't make the killing blows." That's everyone else - even Leliana. I have no such problem with darkspawn though. Bleeding heart of a healer.

"Too bad. Loghain wants the Grey Wardens dead." The dagger cut deep into my back and I choked as I felt the blood pouring into my lungs. Fuck. The dagger was yanked sharply out and I fell to the floor. From almost fading vision I saw Alistair draw his sword and bury it deep in the man's throat and the dwarf unhook a huge axe cutting into the man behind the one who'd stabbed me - just in his groin. Got to hurt.

I fought every instinct I had to just curl into a ball and hide from the pain but Alistair got bashed with a mace on the side of the head. I can't concentrate enough to get access to magics though. I'm going to die - after all the shit and horrid battles I've been in this is how I die? Rather pointless. I heard a thumping of feet and an arrow went into the mace wielder, straight through his head and skittering off the stone door. The last one was engulfed in flames before I saw Holly go through his shoddy leathers with a wet gurgle.

"What happened?" Leliana was propping me up. "Damnation! They stabbed him!"

"Poultice... in my satchel." Weakly - and with the opposite hand to the side I'd been stabbed on I patted my satchel. Leliana tipped the lot of it out and uncorked a poultice - pushing me forward in a seated position before roughly applying the creamy poultice through the rip in my robes. Now that rather rather better - the slight numbing of it was allowing me to think straight again.

"Loghain's men want us dead." I conjured up a healing aura and shot both a tendril at Alistair as well as focusing one inward to myself before healing my internal injuries and the slight fracture on the templar. So we're not dying today. Rather a good thing.

"Fucking arseholes." Shiloh kicked the dagger wielder. "I shouldn't have let you two figure this out. In future - I'm the leader - I'll do it myself." She sounded rather angry but I couldn't tell if it was at me and Alistair or the men. I picked myself up, still rather tender but the poultice and my own healing had fixed it - it would just be sore and itchy for a while. Leliana was crouched picking up the contents of my satchel before handing it to me with a smile. She always smiles even though I've seen a little bit of under that mask she wears. She's got this sadness about her. Being a healer is no fun. I feel the urge to fix things.

"It could have happened to any of us Shiloh. Calm down." She was looking at me when her face went from the anger to this strange sort of puzzled face. Then I got hugged. Ow.

"Don't go dying." Just as quickly as she'd hugged she was backing away. "So... what's the situation?" And now my mind is blank. I don't get hugged. That was the weirdest reason though. I didn't die so I got hugged.

"King Endrin Aeducan returned to the Stone three weeks past. His successor unnamed." The dwarven man answered. I'm thankful for that - don't know if I have capabilities for speech. "But Grey Wardens and their companions will be allowed into the city. We know there's a Blight on and you're needed. But whether or not this treaty of yours will be honored is another question entirely."

Shiloh furrowed her brow. "Take us in then. Let's find out who's arse we have to lick to get the dwarven troops."

* * *

As it turned out - either Lord Pyral Harrowmont or Lord Bhelen Aeducan would be the ones we needed to lick. One - trusted adviser to the late King and the other the late King's son.

How we'd met the contenders for the throne however. Argh.

We had walked in awe through the Hall of Paragons, the dwarf leading us into Orzammar telling a brief name and explanation on who these 'Paragons' were revered. We learnt that dwarves don't believe in the Maker or Andraste or anything like a deity. They worshiped their own Ancestors. Paragons were ancestors that had risen up among them as fierce warriors, shrewd politicians or innovative minds. It made a lot of sense. Rather believe in that than people who subjugate mages. Ah - I'm over thinking on it.

It was then we came into Orzammar proper - to see a pissing match of sorts between the two lords - it ended with one of Pyral Harrowmont's men getting killed by a dual axe attack in the belly. I couldn't save him. I don't know whether I want to lean toward either of these men if it keeps on leading to bloodshed.

"It's disgusting. Visitors in the Commons and you see the worst of the dwarves." The dwarf who'd led us in shook his head. "King Endrin would be turning on the Stone to see this."

"So how do dwarves live like this?" I was staring at the magma flows, the heat radiating off them was tremendous - such a harsh difference to the cold of the mountain. I can see molten rock fists rising from the lava itself. But it isn't the thing that's drawing most of my attention.

"Like what cloudhead?" The dwarf turned his attentions to me.

"Underground. There's enough lyrium and darkspawn here that I can feel both of them." It's a rather weird feeling. The static resonance of lyrium with the burning cold thrum of the darkspawn. It's stopping my mind from wandering too much though.

"Well as you know - I can't feel the darkspawn and the lyrium is just everyday really - so very easily even though we're slowly losing ground to the 'spawn." Ah... nearly forgot dwarves don't have a connection to the Fade - interesting that they feel the presence of lyrium though. And he can't sense darkspawn. Stupid question then. I always ask stupid questions.

"How about you tell us where we have to go to find out the policies of these dwarves." Shiloh gestured to the blood splatter on the floor. "And we go talk to them to get our troops."

"Best place would be the Assembly hall." He scratched his chin under his long plaited beard. "Head toward The Diamond Quarter - there's a map of the whole of Orzammar just past the... blood."

* * *

The Assembly was more a group of shouting dwarves that a counsel of dwarves that I had imagined, making decisions. It was an uproar, a calamity and near beheading from the way axes were looking to move.

And now... we are being told just to speak to Harrowmont we need to fight in something called a Proving. Or - we could go plant incriminating evidence against Harrowmont for Bhelen. Neither sound too appealing. Oh - and to top it off neither will even speak to us after that if we don't support their bid for the throne.

Politics. Go suck... I blush at my own thought. "So who are we supporting for the throne?" I need to ask questions. Shiloh just brushed the hair back on either side of her head and tucked it behind her ears.

"We go to the biggest tavern here. Get a drink - find out who the people want. Duncan said Grey Wardens do what they must against the darkspawn but they don't get involved. Fuck that - we're getting involved. We need the dwarven troops but we're not bending over and getting royally shafted to end up supporting the wrong man." That was - the longest thing I think I've heard her say. It also makes a lot of sense. Makes me glad I made her lead us. "You and the witch will be finding out what the two _lords_ stand for - the map thing said there was a library of sorts so start there. Alistair will go with the Orlesian and get the word on the street."

"We're splitting up?" Alistair groaned. "I like how you give me the one which means I don't have to do much. Leliana does the talking for three."

"I do not!" Leliana harrumphed. They're like children - dancing around each other because we're all still rather unsure of the others. That was rather introspective. I should congratulate myself.

"Yes you do! Maker dammit! I'm not rushing into this head first and blind. Just do as I ask!" Shiloh set her jaw.

"Do I have to go with Morrigan?" I glanced over to the witch. She was doing that unnatural smile thing.

"One would think you would find it disagreeable to be in my company." She drawled. Shiloh took a deep breath.

"Or you could take Ward and I'll handle the b... witch."

"How come he doesn't get shouted at?" Alistair snorted a laugh. Shiloh looked shocked for a moment before recovering.

"Fine - everyone do whatever you want! I'm going to find a tavern. You can all come and find me when you're done!" And then she stomped off. Brilliant one Alistair. Just make the leader angry. I want to follow her but that might not be a good idea.

"How about you have Morrigan with you?" I sighed to the templar.

"Why does everyone feel the need to handle me as if I were milk gone sour?" Morrigan is rather scary when angry. I don't want to tell her I find her remarks rather rude. Or that I prefer being on my own when researching. That's all I'm doing. Research - much like in the circle.

"Maybe it's because you are?" Alistair snarked at her. Bad idea. I started toward the Library and noted that Leliana is following me - leaving one of my fellow Wardens and Morrigan standing in the street having an argument. I hope he doesn't try to smite her. I can see that ending up with multiple murders. They'll kill each other.

* * *

As it so turns out - the library is actually called a 'Shaperate' and the librarian a 'Shaper of Memories'. It's sort of like a library - it's a collection on all the dwarves ever lived, their achievements, votes for King (and that still sounds confusing - I thought it automatically went to the next in line from his family - and that would be Bhelen and we'd have such an easier job to do).

"William!" Leliana called me back over to the Shaper of Memories. Apparently my questions were a bit too much for him and Leliana ended up having to speak to him while I just picked up a book and started to read. It was about mining lyrium - even dwarves need wear heavy gloves when handling it before processing. "The grand Shaper of Memories has been kind enough to give me two copies of the manifestos detailing Lord Pyral Harrowmont and Lord Bhelen Aeducan's policies. Would you join me in reading them?" The dwarf was regarding the sister with a bit of respect as she spoke. Seems she had a way with words really. The complete opposite of me - I just ask damned stupid questions.

Leliana sat down at a low stone table and put the two sheets of vellum down, beckoning me to sit opposite her. Rather difficult to do that - my knees were up nearly pinned to my chest and I felt rather foolish. Leliana was tall - but not so tall that she couldn't extend her legs under the table. Lucky so and so.

"So - I'll read over Bhelen's policies and you take Harrowmont?" Leliana switched the vellum over, obviously I had Harrowmont's in front of me beforehand.

"Then we shall return to Shiloh and make her happy no?" The Chantry sister smiled. "I wish I knew why she doesn't like me. I try to be amicable."

"Lass - you're very friendly but Shiloh doesn't like talking about dresses and flowers. Maybe a different subject eh?" I picked up the policy and leaned back into the hard chair. "Et une culture peu moins Orlesian. Elle n'aime pas Orlesians."

"Comme tu dis." She shook her head and buried her nose in her own reading.

As I'm reading this - the more I wish I knew the dwarven references in here. Casteless? I understand the bits about improved trade with the surface - trade would be a good thing regardless - if the Circle didn't have the 'business' of creating potions and salves as well as the Tranquil making enchantments we'd be fed much worse than vegetables and tatties. Oh - I like the look of this bit - lyrium trading direct to the towers rather than just to the Chantry. I raked a hand down my tail of hair. Damn - I didn't get rid of that knot.

"His trade agreements look sound." I put the vellum down. "But I have no idea what Casteless dwarves are. It mentions a place called 'Dust Town' - where these Casteless live. Bhelen talks about letting them join the army. Would you feel up to checking it out?"

Leliana looked up and put her own piece down. "Yes. Harrowmont here says that the Casteless are to be kept out of the Diamond Quarter indefinitely - I should think we look at what they mean." She stood up, cracking her wrists and I unfolded myself from my own chair - cracking most of my own joints too.

"I wouldn't go to that Ancestor forsaken place." We both turned to the voice - that of the Shaper of Memories.

"And why not?" Leliana asked.

"The Casteless are exempt from the memories - they're little more than dirt, criminals - thugs and thieves." Leliana looked over to me.

"And so are mages." I pursed my lips. "Little more than dirt that is. So I'd like to meet these fellow dirt-dwellers." Then I promptly walked away from the Shaper. Leliana hurried up to follow me.

"You didn't mean that did you?" She breathed, I must be walking rather fast - I slowed my pace some as we carried on through the doors and started through the Diamond Quarter.

"I did. I'm seen as little more than dirt by a lot of people - small minded bastards the lot of them. But we're all people. We all live and breathe like any other. I'm going to find this Dust Town and I'm going to report back to Shiloh with our findings. We're supporting Bhelen to the ends of Thedas if needs be if it's all true."

* * *

I'm more than angry now. I'm pissed. The Casteless in Dust Town. We saw a woman get beaten to a bloody pulp by two guardsmen as we walked into the decrepit place - but they didn't stop when we asked.

I killed them. Dwarves are incredibly resistant to magic and I ended up forming the stone around him and shattering him into pieces with my staff to end his miserable life - but I killed another being. Leliana had drawn her daggers and had butchered them with the same ferocity until the two guardsmen were no more.

I knelt down to the woman - her cheek branded with a black mark that looked odd on her pale features and forced a healing aura over her and mended her broken bones and cracked skin. She was close to being beaten to death. We- I killed. But I saved a life. It was difficult to get past the dwarven resistance to magic - but I managed it.

"Thank you." The woman looked up at me, small tears on her cheeks. "I don't know who or what you are but thank you."

"William Amell." I helped her stand up as I did. "I'm a mage - a healer. But you don't need to thank me. Just get out of this place."

"I can't salroka." She looked down at the rust-red dust around her. "Casteless don't leave Orzammar and I can't leave my son."

"Take your son and yourself - go to the surface and go to a place called Denerim." I turned to Leliana. "Do you think the Chantry would take her in?"

"Undoubtedly." She smiled weakly, wiping blood off her leathers with a rag.

"There's a place called a Chantry there. They'll look after you and your son. They won't treat you like dirt - we'll help you if you like."

"I... I don't know what to say." She knelt down to a bundle of dirty sheets and picked them up. "This is my son." Her son... poor bairn. There was a weeping red mark on his cheek like the one on hers. I placed a hand on his head and healed the horrid wound and it became as hers - a black brand.

"Take this." I reached into my satchel and pulled out an old enchantment rune I'd found when I was younger. I'd never been able to decipher it but I kept it as a good luck charm. "Sell it if you need to. Get to Denerim lass."

The dwarven woman looked close to tears but hesitantly took the rune. I turned to Leliana.

"I think we should find Shiloh. Tell her what's happened." I looked down at the dwarven woman. "We'll walk with you to the gates or Orzammar if you tell us where the biggest tavern in Orzammar is lass."

"It's Tapsters... in the Commons. I'll take you there."

* * *

The dwarven woman - Dharma - insisted she could get out of Orzammar herself and I watched as she left us - going through the gates into Orzammar through the Hall of Paragons. When I was sure she wouldn't get further harassed I looked over at Leliana. I am not thinking about the stale sweat, piss, vomit and ale that is radiating from the place - damned sensitive nose.

"She's going to be looked after right?" Leliana grabbed me in a hug. What is it - do my tattoos mean 'hug me' in some sort of cipher I don't know?

"You did a very good thing." She broke away - looking rather embarrassed. "Let's tell Shiloh everything then. We're going to get into trouble for killing those guardsmen though."

"Oui mon ami." We are - we were told to research policies - not kill people. I pushed open the door into the tavern to see a crowd cheering in a huddle. Huh? What in the Makers name?

"How's she doing it?" One dwarf was scratching his head. "Finish her Oghren! I have two coppers on you!"

"What's happening?" I looked down at the betting dwarf.

"This elf challenged Oghren to an arm wrestle." Elf - Shiloh. I haven't seen any other elves yet in Orzammar. I peered over the small huddling of dwarves to where they were looking - very easy that - dwarves are rather short and I'm quite tall - Shiloh - locked arms with a dwarf with bright red hair and twin plaits running down two feet from his mustache/beard. I can only assume the dwarf she's wrestling with is this Oghren. They're practically growling at each other.

There was a final push and Shiloh grunted as she forced this Oghren's arm flat to the stone table. "Take that for calling me a knife-ear!" She yelled - half spitting with rage.

"Sodding... Fine. One tankard of the best for this fucking strong knife-ear!" Oghren banged on the table and there was an exchanging of coins from the group of dwarves as they dispersed. Shiloh glared at him and I could see the way she looked ready to draw Holly from her scabbard. A tired looking female dwarf put a large metal jug of sorts onto the table and Shiloh picked it up - knocking back whatever was in it easily. The red headed dwarf stumbled away from her - grumbling about how a 'frolicking knife-ear' could beat the 'mighty Oghren'.

"Well lookie here!" Shiloh slammed the metal jug of a tankard down on the table - a slosh of dark brown beer going over the edge. "If it isn't my mage and my Orlesian looking all dusty and freaked out!"

"Aye... what happened?" I edged closer and saw that about a third of the drink was gone from the tankard already - and a empty one discarded on the edge of the table.

"Sit down an' I'll tell ya all 'bout it." Great - I'm pretty sure our leader is a bit tipsy.


	10. (Musicalrain) The Drunken Fist

Author Note: Dwarves and more dwarves! :o And drinking and fighting... loads of fun for Shiloh! So... these latest two chapters would've been published earlier if it weren't for me. Totally my fault! But we had originally intended to update once a week – we're so not doing that. lol. And there's plot in this chapter too! :P

- Musicalrain

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

Sodding... They act worse than babes! I walk towards the marketplace with Ward beside me. I look down at the mabari and pat him on the head. He doesn't argue with me. But he doesn't talk. If he did, I'm sure he'd just do as I say. They asked me to be the leader, but don't want to do what I decide needs to be done so we can find a way to get our dwarven troops. Whatever. I'll go do everything myself if I must, but first I need a drink.

I browse briefly over the market's stalls as I pass, as I have no idea where, or which, tavern I should go to. I've been wandering for a bit. There's one in that corner there, but it looks too small. I need a larger tavern to get information in. Something more popular.

Something catches my eye at one of the stalls, and I stop to look at it. It's a sewing kit. It'd actually come in handy. There's only so much wear an tear our clothes can handle. I think back to the tear in William's robes. Yeah. That'd need to be sewed. But I won't offer to sew it, cause I'm pissed at them all. I'll be stubborn. I don't care.

"How much?" I ask the stall owner as I lift up the opened leather wrapping holding the kit of various needles and string.

"Three copper." Well that's certainly worth it. Grey Warden discount maybe? Heh. I won't question it. It's a nice kit. And before you ask, yes I can sew. One has to have _some _amount of domestic skills living in the alienage. We can't afford to replace everything we own every time something gets a rip or a loose hem. So now you know I can sew and like to cook. It's terribly domestic. But! I'm not only a warrior, you know. I had a fairly normal life... Wait. Does that mean I don't have a normal life now? Well I suppose killing darkspawn and raising armies isn't normal. I'm rambling in my own mind. I shake my head and look towards the stall owner that I just bought the kit from.

"What's the most popular tavern around here?" I ask.

"Tapster's."

* * *

It takes me awhile to find the place, but I smelled the tavern before I saw it – the stink of piss, vomit and alcohol. The telltale smells of a well used establishment. I walk up the short stone steps to the heavy door, and when I push it open the entire place goes silent. Don't see elves and mabari much, do ya boys? Well, I know how to fix this, and get those sods to quite giving me the evil eye. I just have to find the biggest guy in here, sit next to him, and if he doesn't kick my arse I'm in the clear.

Biggest guy... Oh. There he is. I walk up to the bar and motion to the empty short stone stool beside him. He has wild red hair, a beard as long as Ward is tall, and a massive battleaxe laying beside him.

"This seat taken?" I put an extra edge into my voice, which isn't difficult to do since I'm still pretty pissed over everyone's earlier whining.

He looks up at me. His eyes are bleary and bloodshot, there's crumbs of food and spilled ale in his beard and mustache, and he stinks worse than my darkspawn-goo covered armor. He blinks once, slowly, and says in a gruff voice, "Nah. Take a seat girlie. Have a pint." After he says that, the tavern predictably goes back to noisy. See? Sit near the big guy people.

I nod and motion to the bartender with one finger raised as I sit in the low stool with Holly's scabbard hitting the back of it and the floor with a soft thud. I should probably remove the greatsword, but I'm not certain if I'll be expecting a fight. Ward settles himself behind me protectively.

"What's 'er name?"

I look to the dwarf beside me with a furrowed brow. Chatty drunk then? Okay. "Shiloh. You?"

He belches. That's pleasant. "Oghren. Warrior caste. You one of 'em Wardens everyone's talking about?"

I nod and my ale's placed in front of me. I take a large mouthful and swallow it roughly before coughing. "Shit! What is that? Dirt?" Ugh. Bad mood's gonna take a while to take care of if I can't even enjoy a pint.

'Oghren' laughs very loudly from beside me, "Yep. Gives it an extra edge. He he." He looks at me with crinkled eyes after eying Holly appreciatively, "Ya know how to use that sword there girlie?"

"Of course," I snort. I take a smaller mouthful of the ale, and manage to get it down before the dirt taste lingers. I look back over at Oghren. Apparently he's not going to kick my arse. That's all good, I guess. But I'm still far from relaxed. A brawl would've helped.

"Barkeep," I address the bartender. I can still think when I'm pissed. We'll need a place to stay, as it doesn't look like our troops will be given any time soon. "How much are accommodations here?"

He walks over with heavy feet, "How many rooms ya need, Warden?" I guess he saw my nod to Oghren's question.

"Two for multiple people," one for the women and one for the men. I'm not forking enough coin so everyone can have their own. They'll just have to deal with it.

"Three silver for two with two beds." Fair enough. I had over the coin to complete the transaction, and then turn back to Oghren,

"Hey," he looks towards me when I address him. "You know anything about the two lords trying to be king? They've both asked for Warden support, but I'd like to know what other people think before I decide who's arse to lick."

He chuckles, "Nah. I don't care who's king. Just someone better sodding step up."

The bartender comes over towards me, a greying filthy dwarven man with very tiny eyes. "I'd throw my lot in with Harrowmont. That nughumper Bhelen wants to stir up too much trouble."

"He just wants to shake up the Assembly. Ain't a bad thing!" Another dwarf sitting at a table behind me shouts towards us.

"Tradition's there for a reason!" The bartender barks. "Could you imagine what chaos would happen if he gets his way?!"

Another nearby table with three fairly drunk-looking dwarves shouts over with various, "By the Stone, who cares?" "Neither should be king!" "I say we let 'em fight it out!"

The bartender walks over to that table with the threat of kicking the lot of them out, and I look back over towards Oghren. "None of you can make up your minds, huh?" That's sodding great. I still don't know what to do about these lords. This is all starting to _really _piss me off.

He shakes his head, "Nah. We're a stubborn bunch of Blighters."

I snort, "You don't have to tell me twice." Dwarven nobles may just be worse than human. None of them can get their heads out of their arses. I take a bigger gulp of the ale before saying, "I wish they would just fight it out." It's a good idea. Not practical. But good.

Oghren laughs again and looks over at me with a smirk, "Eh - so you sit next to Oghren... looking for a tumble?"

I scowl. Is he insane? "No..." I am _not _into dwarves. No thanks. I scoot my stool over a little in an effort to make myself clear.

He shrugs, "Eh - didn't think a frolicking knife-ear would."

What did he just call me?! I'll kick his arse! "_Knife-ear_? Let's see how you fight against a knife-ear!" He just laughs. I stand up abruptly, and he looks at me curiously. "My strength against yours." I don't want to kill the stupid sodder, and have both of the lords turn their backs on me. I need to fight him somehow. Can't let him get away with that, now can we? I nod to an empty table near a nearby corner. "A little arm wrestle. Unless you think you can't handle a knife-ear?" Maybe I can loosen up some then. Get my blood pumping a little. A good fight to work out my frustrations. And not think about my oh so helpful companions. I just thought about them. Great.

He grins with his crooked dirty teeth. "Sounds like a challenge _knife-ear_," he says with emphasis.

"Oi!" I hear a nearby dwarf shout. "We've got a challenge over here ye nugs!"

Oghren picks up his battleaxe (Holly's bigger – ha!), we both take another swig of ale, and we make our way over to the stout table amongst a growing crowd of drunk, smelly dwarves. There's shouts and bets placed, and I feel myself grin despite my mounting anger. I love this. I'm starting to like these dwarves. Reminds me of home.

I'm still pissed at the others though for whining about silly things when we're trying to get an army to fight a _Blight_. And on top of it I have a dwarf calling me a knife-ear. Ugh. I use that irritation and anger to my advantage as I join a gauntlet-covered hand with the dwarf's.

"You're going down _little _man," I feel my grin turn even more malicious. I've got a little anger to work out.

Oghren grins as he pushes against my hand testingly. "Keep talking like that knife-ear," he says. "and I'll show yer what we dwarves use fer knives."

I push on his hand with more strength, as I've just been holding my place without giving him an edge until now. His wrist moves back a good distance and he grunts as he tries to right it. I can hear the crowd's murmuring increase and there's shouts of, "How's she doing that?" "What's happening?" "Finish her Oghren! I have two coppers on you!"

Nah-uh. I'll be winning this dwarves! I start to feel that adrenaline fulled rage pulse through my veins, and I push harder, as he's a strong sodder. It's actually getting more difficult to get his arm to move. I hear him cursing even more under his breath, and I grunt with effort as I pin his arm flat against the table. I slam my hands down in victory and yell,

"Take that for calling me a knife-ear!"

He grumbles as he stands,"Sodding... Fine. One tankard of the best for this fucking strong knife-ear!" He bangs on the table in his defeat, and our onlookers mutter to themselves and start to disburse. He called me a knife-ear again! Sodding dwarven bastard! I was just starting to like him too. I look to Holly. Too bad I was wise enough not to stab him with her. He needs it now. Even though he lost. The barmaid came over quicker than I would think, and as pissy as I still feel myself (that hardly helped relax me), I hurriedly guzzle the moss-smelling pint so I won't have to spend too much time tasting it. Better than rat droppings though.

I slam the tankard onto the table as I finish. It is better than that dirt-flavored swill I was drinking. Would've never thought I'd prefer moss flavor to dirt. Huh. I look up and see two familiar faces peering at me with startled, bordering on afraid, faces. "Well lookie here! If it isn't my mage and my Orlesian looking all dusty and freaked out!" I can feel myself grinning stupidly. What the sod do I care? I'm finally feeling relaxed after that drink.

"Aye... what happened?" William walks closer to the table and I see him look down at my ale. I'll get him and Leliana one too! I raise my hand and wave until the barmaid notices, and then hold up two fingers. She nods and I look back to the sodding tall mage,

"Sit down an' I'll tell ya all 'bout it." I lean forward and grab onto his sleeve and pull him down into the seat next to mine. I see the Orlesian walk around the table to sit on my other side, beside Ward, as William struggles to fit into the seat and table. It looks funny. "Havin' problems there, bud?"

"Uh... I've got it." It doesn't look like he does. The barmaid comes back and gives the two their ales. I take another swig of mine.

"So! I go to the market, right, an' then I come here. Everyone was all quiet an' so I went up ta that sodder – Oghren an' started talkin' to him. He stinks," I wave my hand in front of my face for emphasis. "I asked h'm what he thought of the two lords, an' he said he didn't care. The bartender likes Harrowmont. That guy," I point at a dark haired dwarf, "likes Bhelen. An' those guys," I point to that table of three, "Don't care, an' thinks they should fight it out. I think that's a good idea, but they'd ne'er do it."

"And the," William looks confused, "arm wrestling? How did that come about?"

I take another sip of my drink, "Oghren asked if I wanted ta bed him, an' I told him no, an' then he called me a knife-ear. So I kicked his arse. I knew I couldn't stab him. We might get kicked out ta Orzammar f'r that." I'm saying things funny. This is some good ale! I see William blink at me slowly. Why's he so confused?

He opens his mouth to talk, but I do before him, "So, what'd you two do?"

The Orlesian answers, as it looks like William was thrown off by my question. "We went to the Shaperate, which is their library."

William clears his throat, and shares with me everything they learned in the Shaperate, about each of the lords policies, and then says they went to Dust town to see what these Casteless are.

"And then," he had to look away from me. My head was propped up on one of my hands as I listened, as I'm feeling more relaxed than I have since before my wedding day. As he paused before continuing, I thought on what he'd said. Harrowmont is traditional in his values, as I had gathered from the earlier yelling with the bartender. He also seems less likely to speak with outsiders, as he's probably hoping that the dwarves can handle their problems on their own. That doesn't seem to be the case though, since because of everyone's inactivity me and my lot are having to act as mediators. Ugh. I said we'd get involved, didn't I? But, this Bhelen really upsets these traditionalists, as he's more reformist apparently. Change is good, right? It seems that he even lets these Casteless join the army and desires to improve their lives. Which brings me to this pause here. How exactly do they live?

"We go into Dust Town," William's voice calls me out of my thoughts, "a place that's actually really dusty and filthy, mind you. And we see guards beating a woman, nearly killing her. And... you're not going to be happy lass, but we... killed the guards. I healed the woman as best I could, which is rather difficult to do with a dwarf's resistance to magic. And I healed her wee bairn, since he was... branded with a hot iron, just like his mother. The Casteless are branded and forced to live in a filthy squalor. We... also helped her get to the surface. I told her to go to Denerim's Chantry."

I drop my arm holding my head up and blink at William slowly as I process what he's told me. Sodding Void! "What?!" I shout. I get a few curious looks directed my way, and decide that it's best if I keep our business ours. I lower my voice a little, but it's still biting. "You're tellin' me that I've been drinkin' and I have more sense than you two when it comes ta killin' people?" I huff and rub my temples irritatedly. I'm in need of another drink. I take a sip. "You couldn't have just knocked them unconscious?" I ask, but don't give either one of them a chance to answer, "Were they beatin' this woman f'r no reason?"

"As far as I could tell," William says quietly. "If I had to guess... They started beating her right after branding her bairn."

I shake my head and look towards the Orlesian briefly before saying, "You two did good by her it sounds." Have to congratulate people when they do good now. "But ya didn't f'r the guards," I grumble. Also have to let people know when they've fucked up. "We need the dwarves ta like us, not hate us. In the future, everyone just better not sodding argue with me! Bad things happen when ya don't even listen ta your own leader dammit!" Damn. I'm talking a lot today. Dwarven ale – I love you. It's stopping me from getting royally pissed though. Yay. My little burst of anger quickly subsides, and I start speaking more calmly as I say,

"These Casteless... They sound like the dwarven equivalent for we elves." I point at myself for emphasis. "Holed up and made ta live in filth just cause the higher-ups don't like us for one reason or another."

"And mages," William interjects. "We're treated as little more than dirt too."

"Really?" I ask and he nods. Before he can say anything though I ask, "Even the shem ones?"

"Aye," he replies sadly. "People are afraid of our abilities and they shun us. I'm surprised you didn't know that lassie."

I wave my hand about, "You're the first mage I've met, an' I've never really understood that anyway. It's weird if ya ask me." I take another sip of my ale. "So! I guess we'd all like to see the lives of these Casteless improved?" The mage and Orlesian both nod. "We're in support of Bhelen then."

I look at the pints in front of the two, and they're both hardly touched. Oh. That won't do. We're in a tavern! "You guys afraid of drinkin' or somethin'?"

I start to take off my gauntlets as I see Leliana take a sip of hers, "It, ah, takes a bit to get used to."

William sniffs his, sets it down, and scoots it away. "It's not... a flavor I like."

"Ha!" I laugh. "Then ya wouldn't like the rat dropping-flavored shit they sell at the Hogshead."

"The Hogshead?" He questions with a quirked brow.

I guess he's never been. "A pirate-friendly tavern at the Denerim docks. My ol' waterin' hole." I grin. "Behind it's where the pit fights are held. I used ta make a good chunk of coin fightin' stinky pirates." I look around, "This place reminds me of it. Huh."

"It seems as whilst we had a sophisticated luncheon with this dwarf - our companions have been swilling back and getting covered in dirt." I look up at the familiar voice, and see Alistair and Morrigan standing beside a dark-haired dwarven woman. The ex-Templar and witch worked together? I may not be all that knowledgeable about magic, but I do know that they hate each other at best. Weird.

I don't like the witch. "Shove it! We know who we want to support." I lean back in my seat.

"You do?" asks Alistair.

"Yes!" I snap. Oh. I'm getting pissy again. Not good. Let's try to take a deep calming breath, shall we? "We're supportin' Bhelen cause he wants to improve the lives of these Casteless dwarves, who are treated as bad as elves _and _mages. So that's gotta be pretty damned bad."

"Those Casteless heathens deserve no less for the crimes of their ancestors." I peer at the dwarven woman that had spoke with my most intimidating glower as I straighten in my seat, which, if I may say so myself, is pretty sodding intimidating.

She shies away like I expected her to. She just screams 'noble'! "And just who are you?"

"Nerav Helmi, Warden." Can tell I'm a Warden, can ya? "And you don't know the truth of Lord Bhelen."

Alright, I'll entertain her. "Take a seat then an' tell me," I motion to the table. "And the rest of ya too."

Once she's settled Nerav looks around at the others before speaking. I think she might be nervous. "It's been said that Bhelen murdered his eldest brother, his father's heir, Trian and framed the Prince's murder on his older sister, Dessa, the middle child of the late King Endrin. It was said the King didn't believe that his daughter killed her brother, but had no evidence against Bhelen's accusations that she murdered him. The King couldn't find it in himself to sentence her execution, so he banished her to the Deep Roads." She paused and swallowed before continuing quieter, "The King's death was sudden. It's rumored that Bhelen also poisoned and killed his father so he could take the throne."

Well that news will sober a person some. I look towards the others, before addressing them all, "Anyone hear anythin' 'bout this?"

The Orlesian looks towards me, "I thought I read about the King's older children, but the document only said that they were dead."

"Dessa is dead according to the memories," Nerav interjects. "Even if she's somehow still alive, her memory isn't." That's true... the part about 'somehow still alive'. Duncan told me about the darkspawn, as did Mamae – they're from the Deep Roads it's their home. It's unlikely one dwarf by herself could survive an entire horde. That's sodding shit. Her father didn't execute her, but he still killed her.

"I don't think there was a cause of death mentioned for the King," William adds.

"I only heard that he was sick," Alistair said.

I look back towards William. "Do you think it could've been poison?"

He shrugs, "It's possible. It doesn't seem that he was sickly for a long time and then just passed. From what I gather, that is."

"Flaming bastard," I curse. "You don't kill ya family! That is... it's..." I slam my hand on the table. "If he did kill off his entire family for the throne, who's ta say that he's not lyin' 'bout helpin' the Casteless? He could just be tryin' to gain favor so he'd get the sodding throne he's been killin' over!" I can still think while drinking! I'm sure even drunk I'd have more sense then half the people in this tavern though.

"I think you're right," Alistair says.

"Aye," William nods. "He sounds like a scheming bastard, if all this is true."

I look towards the dwarven woman. "How'd you hear about all this?"

"Lord Harrowmont was there in the Deep Roads when they found Trian's body and Bhelen spouted his accusations. I heard from him, and..." She lowered her voice even further and leaned across the table, "I heard from Orson Haver, the mercenary Bhelen hired to help him frame his sister."

My eyes narrow at this woman, "Ya heard directly from these people?"

"Yes ma'am," she replies instantly. "Lord Harrowmont is loyal to our family, and had told our House's Lords himself of his suspicions. I also paid a lot of gold in trying to find the mercenary and paid him handsomely for this information too."

"Ya went ta a lot of trouble for this."

She nods, "Lord Harrowmont is the rightful king. I am trying to help him secure his place."

"Right," I lean back. "We'll support Harrowmont then." I look around to the others and they all give me their agreement. "Thank you, Nerav for tellin' us."

"Of course," she gets up to leave. "It has been a pleasure, Grey Wardens."

* * *

I ordered another pint. I needed it. I also ordered for Alistair and Morrigan too. They were pintless! It was terrible!

I take another drink of my new pint, the dirt-flavored one as the moss is the good stuff (and I ain't forkin' over a ton of coin for the moss stuff), and I notice that William there beside me hasn't even touched his.

"How come yer not drinkin'?" I lean over the table and look up at him. Have I told you all that he's a tall blighter? Even sittin' in a dwarf seat he's tall!

"Um... It's not very appealing, lass. How can you drink it?"

"Like this," I take another gulp easily. Oh! Idea! "If yer don't drink yer pint there in the next two minutes, you'll upset me."

"I'm sorry?" He looks either afraid or confused. I can't tell.

"Drink yer damned drink!" I huff and shuffle closer to push it towards him. "Here! Bottom's up bud!"

He looks at his drink then at me, then sighs loudly before he guzzles as much as he can as quick as he can. He sputters and coughs afterwards and I pat him on the back a few times to help him catch his breath. Oh he's nice and warm... That's a weird thought! Let's drink more ale. I'm sure that'll help.

William suddenly has an odd look about his face, and raises his tankard of ale. "Ta Gregor, Duncan and all the Blighters the Grey Wardens have lost! May we endeavor never to lose so many again!" Yeah! We'll kick darkspawn arse! They'll never take another like Duncan again. Another idea!

"To Duncan. Besht shem ever liv'd." I clink my tankard with William's just before Alistair says,

"To Duncan," and meets our ales with his own.

"To all those lost to the darkspawn." Ah! The Orlesian! Well, she's being nice. I'll giver her that.

"Yes... for all those who died." The witch now! Apparently ale makes people nicer, or... I just ain't as angry or pissy. Heh. I'm finally relaxed. You know who else looks relaxed... Woops. Let's not continue that thought now! I don't even know... he's a shem! Oh! Clink ales and drink – yes! I'll do that...

I down the last of my ale to chase away those... thoughts, and slam my tankard on the table as I stand from my seat. "Right yer sodders..." I address the lot that I've been leading. A bunch of shems following an elf! Hah! Oh... Look at my armor. It's still dirty and icky. Eww. Idea! "I'm off ta clean off tha 'spawn blood an' guts from me armor an' jus' get a lil' cleaner." Am I sounding funny? I do think I am. I shuffle a little ways away. I forgot to tell them something! "Oh... an' did I tell yer all I got us accommo- accommo- room 'ere?" Sod it I can't say accommo- accommo-... Whatever! They know what I mean.

"When did you do that?" Oh. Alistair's talking to me now? What'd he say? Oh!

"Ferget... s'all paid fer though." Now where's Holly? There's a bath with my name on it! Oh there you are sweetie! I pick her up, and oh... she's a little heavy right now. Stairs... Oh wait! Barmaid to tell her about my bath! Oh... I'm swaying all over the place. Steps! Don't kill me!

Somehow I manage to get to the correct room, let Ward in and open and try to close the door only to have the door not close all the way. What the sod? It's the Orlesian. What's she doing in my room? Oh... I only rented two rooms. Right. Ugh.

She comes in and so does... the witch! Aw. Bathtime, you're supposed to be relaxing. How are you supposed to be relaxing with the witch and Orlesian in the same room? That's sad. Oh! Leliana has those soaps!

"Hey," I walk up to Leliana. "Can I ush them soapsh when da bar... lady gets 'ere with me bath?"

"Yes," she puts a hand on my shoulder. "How about we sit and wait for the bath to come, yes?"

I shake her off. "I need off dis _stinkin' _arm'r!" I start pulling at the buckles of my chain. When did it get so difficult? Leliana offers to help, and I let her, cause... something is wrong with my fingers.

I hear Morrigan sigh as she sits on one of the two low beds. Hey! Who am I sharing with! It better be Ward and not the witch or Orlesian! "Please do attempt to keep it quiet. I do need some amount of rest to be functional."

"I'll go ta bed when I ge' me bath." I reply. She can sleep whenever. Acting like she hasn't slept in a year or something. Oh, lookie there. Armor's off. How'd that happen so quickly? And there's the lady with my bath! Yay!

The barmaid and two other dwarves come into the room with my bath and two buckets of steaming water. I tip them. Maybe too much. Did I give them silver? Maker I hope not. Clothes off! We're all ladies here, who cares? And I probably see more of Morrigan's chest than I do of my own. I shudder. Oh lets not think about that. That'd be good.

I slip into the bath and spill a crap-load of water. Who the sod cares? Not me! Oh... I'm missing something. I look towards the Orlesian, "Shoap?"

"What scent would you like I have -"

"Not laven'r!" She's looking at me funny. "I m'n... honey. Pleash."

She comes over towards me and gives me the honey soap to use. Yay! "Why don't you like lavender?"

Is she stupid or something? "It was me cousin's favor- favorite. Sh-shianni. I ain't smellin' like that e'er again. Lasht time... bad things happensh." I don't want to think about it. She can apparently see that, and goes to sit on the unoccupied bed. Looks like I'll be sharing with either the witch or the Orlesisan. Ha! That means the other will get Ward! Aw. But I'd rather sleep with my puppy. He's not a puppy, but you know. No that's not true, I'd rather be sleeping with – Woops! Don't think that about a shem Shiloh! He's a shem! But he has pretty eyes, and he's nice, and I like his hair. I do. It's pretty. But his eyes are prettier – yes.

"His eyes 're like lil' sapph'res. They-they're like gemsh."

"Who's eyes are like sapphire gems?" Woops! I said that aloud, didn't I? Ah. I do that sometimes, but it's usually with cursing. Who said that? Oh. The Orlesian.

Eh. Might as well answer her. She's being nice, actually. And not talking about dresses or shoes! "William's." Oh. Wait. She's all smiley now, and... I don't think I should've said that! "If yer tell 'im I'll gut ya!" She's still smiley. That didn't work. Oh well. Bath! Then sleep, yes.

* * *

I crack open an eye as I wake up. Ugh. My head! How much dwarven ale did I drink? My mouth tastes like dirty moss. That's nasty. I groan and roll over to run into... a... soft body. What the Void did I do? Oh dear Maker. I don't want to look. I don't want to look. I open both my eyes to see the Orlesian laying beside me on her back!

"Ah!" I yelp before I quickly roll over and land on the floor with a heavy thump. Dwarven beds aren't that big apparently. Oh sodding great. Why am... was... What's going on here?

"Oh mon," I see Leliana peer over the edge of the bed. "Are you alright Shiloh?"

I rub a hand over my face before I try to sit up and answer her. "What the sod happened last night?"

"You do not remember?" Apparently not shem! I guess she sees my irritation, since she quickly continues. "The three of us returned to our room after our toast to the deceased. You had a bath, and I helped you to bed. You feel asleep rather quickly. I don't believe you became sick from your drink either."

I groan. So I drank, bathed, and slept. One thing though. "Who's 'the three of us'?"

"Myself, Morrigan, you... and I suppose your mabari makes four." Ah. Right. One room for each gender. She scoots to the edge of the bed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Um..." Let's think. "Getting William to chug some ale." Heh. That was funny.

She shakes her head and stands to hold out a hand to help me up. "Come, let's get ready for the day. We've decided to support Harrowmont, as I'm sure you remember. But that means we have a Proving to enter in his name."

* * *

We had a very... _interesting _breakfast at the tavern. Everyone except for the witch and Orlesian (and Ward) looked rather hungover. Bleary eyed, bloodshot, crouched over and with headaches. Apparently I can hold my drink better than the boys, because they both complained of being sick. I used to get shitfaced after just about every pit fight I was in... which means that I'd get hammered at least twice a week. Maybe more like three. Alcohol tolerance! Even to dwarven ale. I don't know if that's a significant achievement. Maybe I should keep that to myself.

Anyway, William offered to heal my headache, which helped, but I still felt like shit. The feeling was a bit worse than my normal after a night of copious drinking at the Hogshead. So now we're on the way to this 'Proving' tournament, which in all honesty just sounds like a glorified pit fight.

"Are you sure you can fight Shiloh? You don't look your best."

I look up at William, and I can feel a scowl etch my face. "I've fought half conscious in nothing but a dress and boots before. With a sodding shortsword to top it off." Not my happiest moments that. His eyes widen and I continue, "I'm not worried about fighting a bunch of dwarves a little hungover."

We enter the Proving grounds, not very impressive by the way, and I'm directed to a door to await entry, while the others are shown to the stands. I can totally do this. Cakewalk here. I walk into the arena when signaled and cheers sound. Totally a glorified pit fight. I wonder who has bets on me? Eh. I don't give a flaming shit. We'll get that Lord's favor.

I barely listen to the gibber jabber. This that of this caste... blah. I'm _slightly_ irritated right now. I don't care. I pull Holly from my holster, and stand at the ready when announced. My opponent is the first to charge. He's a dwarven warrior, one-handed axe and shield, and pretty damned well trained actually. I dodge his initial charge with a swinging sidestep, and a downward angled stab at his more vulnerable back. If he was shem or elven sized, that hit would've hit the back of his knees. But sod it – I've never fought a dwarf before. He retaliates quickly, and I block his shield bash with the flat of Holly's blade. This guy's moving quicker than I thought a dwarf could. Arg.

I push back on his shield with my augmented Warden strength and a grunt of frustration. Think. How to fight a dwarf? Usually I'm the smaller opponent, except when I'm fighting genlocks! That's it. Think of him as a genlock. Well... the thought of those darkspawn demented arseholes gets my blood pumping. I can even feel the faint thrum of the 'spawn wondering the Deep Roads. Those sodding bastards! I'll kill them all!

The noise of the crowd deafens in my ears. I feel energized and strong. Pissed beyond measure, and now it's all directed at this guy. Before he has a chance to make another attack, I run straight for him using the element of surprise and the brute force of a direct attack. I turn Holly around in my grasp, and dodge his blade with a small jump before using the momentum and my strength to bash her pommel as hard as I can into the side of his armored head. He sprawls to the ground, not having the footing to support himself from a pounding to the head. I right Holly in my hands, and press her tip gingerly to his neck as he fights the disorientation caused by my attack. When he blinks at the tip of my blade in his neck, he takes a deep breath and says, "I am... defeated."

The crowd cheers and roars, and I pull back panting, and nodding in turn to my opponent after he does. I can feel the adrenaline burning through my veins. I'm ready for more.

He clears out with assistance from another dwarf, which he probably doesn't need it but if they want to pamper their warriors then that's their prerogative. And... my next opponent, err, opponents come out. Don't even give me time to catch my breath? Okay then.

According to the guy doing all the talking they're twins. Special. The woman is another warrior, axe and shield, her brother a dual dagger wielder. Two against one. Sounds fair. I'll try not to hurt them _too_ much. _Now don't get cocky dear_, I hear the voice of Mamae tell me. Ah her lessons. Can't forget those now. Overconfidence is a downfall.

The woman charges, and I'm careful to keep her brother in my sights as she swings up with her axe. I deflect with a downward swing with Holly, pushing to the left against her axe causing her to adjust her footing and allowing me to step away. Her brother comes in close and aims for the hole in my chain, that... he can so totally see. I _really _need to get that fixed. I growl and turn away quickly, using the sheer size of Holly to my advantage as I cut downwards into the less protected crook of his elbow on his fully extended arm. He doesn't have the time to withdraw or deflect (Warden speed), and cries out in pain as my cut strikes home. He drops that hand's dagger, curls his arm against his chest and steps away.

His sister took advantage with my preoccupation with her twin to circle around me, and I can't quite avoid her shield's bash against my lower back. Holly's scabbard prevents me from feeling the complete force of her hit, but I still stagger forward. Her blade reaches out and cuts into my thigh as I turn. My chain does its job, and the wound isn't nearly as serious as it would've been had I been without. The chain is embedded into the open cut, now leaking hot blood against my skin. Great. Now my hose needs sewn. I feel my face pinch in anger, and swing low with my large greatsword. I hit both her weapon and her main weapon hand, disabling her grip enough to allow me to quickly strike again in her side between the plates of her armor before she can counter. She falls to the ground with a scream of pain, at the same time I feel a dagger land home in the space in my chain.

I don't give the twin very long to push it in deep, before I drop Holly in favor of grabbing and wrenching his wrist away from my side. Red seeps into the edges of my vision as I pull him close, his other hand useless, and I smack my forehead against his un-helmeted one as hard as I can. He staggers back, but I keep a hold of his wrist. I grab his long dagger with my other hand, and immediately throw it into his leather-clad booted foot. He screams and falls to the ground, cradling his foot and cursing in the dwarven language. They're both now disabled, and I can vaguely hear it as I'm announced the winner over the rush in my ears.

They're dragged away and I retrieve Holly as my next opponent steps forward. No healing no nothing. I'm left standing and bleeding here and immediately thrown into the next battle. Which is fucking nice. I focus on my ever-building rage, the thrum of the darkspawn, and the greatsword-wielding dwarven woman before me. If I didn't allow the rushing of my blood, the pounding in my head, or red-edge to my vision – I would feel my wounds and allow them to disable me. But they won't – Mamae taught me to be strong, and strong I will be. This woman will know pain.

She rushes towards me, her dwarven-sized greatsword pointed in a way I know her to be aiming for my middle. I loose a feral yell and charge. Being taller and likely stronger, I sweep Holly low and up. I catch her blade on my own, and push forward to scrape our sword's edges together to bring the top of Holly to her hands. She grunts in pain as I push hard enough to sever her forefinger and nearly remove the next two fingers. She yells, and it sounds... _wrong_. Is something wrong with her voice? I'm not given enough time to think about it, as she suddenly pushes down on Holly with enough force to break my stance. I stumble a foot forward, catch myself, and turn to the right to repel her blade with the flat of Holly.

"I'll kick your arse!" I yell and angle my hips forward to push back and down. She rights herself, but not before I get my blade across the side of her head. This is a Proving, and despite my rage, I know not to kill her. She's bleeding in a heavy line across the entire right side of her face, because even an idiot knows head wounds bleed so much, and yells _again_. She pushes forward, and catches me on the forearm with enough force to severely dent my long plated gauntlet. I feel a bone or two crunch, but I'm getting far too wrapped up in my anger to even care about the injury. What the sodding Void is wrong with this woman? She seems to be getting stronger with every hit she takes!

I need to knock her unconscious, and quick. I feign a move to the left, a move I have perfected quite well thank you, and sweep close in to the right when she takes the bait. I quickly adjust my grip on Holly, swinging my blade more like I'm chopping wood than fighting, and smack the woman as hard as I can with the flat of my blade on the left side of her head. She falls to the dirty ground like a sack of potatoes, and doesn't move. Not even a twitch.

She's quickly carted away, and I sway on my feet a little. Damn I'm loosing too much blood.

"Commander Tabris! Commander Tabris!" Huh? I look towards the dwarf running towards me after quickly shaking my head to rid it of the fog clouding my senses.

"Commander Tabris." Is he calling me 'Commander'? What the sodding fuck? I... Holy Maker. I _am _a Commander now. Oh shit. I don't have enough time to think on that, as the dwarf practically shaking me continues. Dwarves have boundary issues too apparently. "Please choose one of your comrades to join you in this next battle."

I don't even need to think about it. If I don't get healed like _right now _I'm going to fall over. "Warden William Amell."

William scurries onto the field as quickly as he can. I think he once mentioned that he can _feel _injuries. He must know how hurt I am. I stumble towards him. Damn I'm not doing too good. "Heal me." He doesn't have to be told twice. One of his hands quickly falls to the top of my sweat-slicked hair, the other to move the chain out of my leg wound, as I'm pretty useless right now. I'm not going to fuss. I can feel the numbing sensation of his magic as it coalesces and binds my flesh back together as it rights my bones. I feel my energy return and open my eyes (when did I close them?) to see his face pinched in worry. "Thank you," I say softly (ugh. I'm acting like the helpless maiden!) and quickly pull away. Our opponents have stepped onto the arena's field.

"I'll take the big one," I nod towards the dwarf in heavy armor with a longsword and shield. I look back up at William.

"Must mean I get the one with the axe and dagger then, aye lass."

The battle is announced to start again, and instead of out right charging, the 'big' dwarf starts to circle me. Must've seen the other battles then, and knows to be cautious. Won't help him though.

"What the sod are we doing? Dancing?" I taunt him. "Afraid of a little woman with a big sword, are we? Ya must lack the balls or something."

That does it – he charges. I block his shield's swing with a thrust of Holly and a sidestep away. He swings his sword in a large horizontal arc, and I quickly jump back with Holly held to the side. I grab her strongly with both hands and swing her to hit his shield with a resounding _bang_. I hear him curse and his shield arm falters. I run forward, and take a knee to slide at an angle to allow me to get Holly up and into his vulnerable armpit, as everything else is encased in heavy metal plate. His shield arm drops now uselessly to his side, and his sword arm swings at my left. I see it coming, and get a gauntlet up to block it, as I rip Holly out of his arm. The sword cuts through my gauntlet like butter, and I scream as it bites deep into the bones of my forearm. I growl and snarl, just like a pissed mabari bitch, and pull my hurt arm back at the same time that I swing Holly widely at the exposed buckles of his plate on his side. She hits true, and the buckles are severed – his chestplate falls at an angle against him. He swings at me again, but I push Holly into his hip. Holly is by far longer than he is wide, and I can lift her single-handed when enraged enough – I am now. I slide into his hip bone and upwards, through his chain, and he falls backwards with an ear-piercing scream. I look over at William from my crouched position on the ground, to see him knock the other dwarf unconscious with a hurled chunk of rock.

He looks towards me once he's done, and I can't help but smirk at the exasperated expression on his face. "I need healed again."

He walks over and puts his hand back on my head. It's starting to become a common occurrence. Warriors get hurt. Just how it is.

He tsks and says, "I need you to remove your gauntlet lassie."

I do so as quickly as I can after he numbs the area with a bit of magic. He takes my forearm in hand, and starts to heal it immediately. The Proving Master calls over towards us while my forearm is being repaired.

"You may choose two more of your companions to join you in this final match, Commander." I'm not going to get used to that title. Nuh-uh.

"Warden Alistair and Ward." Arrows wouldn't be helpful in such a situation, and I don't need the witch burning the dwarves into a crisp when we're not here to kill, as this is only an honor Proving (they do have matches to the death, but not in this). I can't trust her not to kill them. And Ward would be helpful against opponents his own size.

Alistair comes down with Ward beside him, and if the dwarves find it odd I've called on a mabari to aid me, no one says anything. Our opponents come out... and one has a crossbow. Damn. I look up to William, "Focus on the crossbow and support." He nods. I look to the others, "I'll take the Blighter in the front. You two have your picks of the others."

Turns out the Blighter in the front is someone of the late King's house. As interesting as that is, him and his buddies aren't going to be a match against us. We're here for a reason. We need troops to fight this Blight, and I'll be damned if we leave here empty handed.

My hands adjust and readjust their grip on Holly as I impatiently wait for the signal to start this last battle. This has to end.

We get the signal, and this time I charge straight at the axe and shield dwarf. I push against his shield as hard as I can, and he takes a single step back, and retaliates with a hit to my plated shoulder.

"You will never beat us Warden," he says as I step back and take on a better stance. "The throne will never leave House Aeducan."

I snort, and dash to his main weapon hand. I thrust Holly forward _hard _into his shoulder, in a similar way to that he had hit me. Except mine is stronger. He cries out in pain, and swings low towards my knees as I withdraw. I dodge his half-botched swing, getting knicked in the process, and cut Holly downwards in the space left open between his shield and his body – into his shield arm. I don't cut through, but I've definitely crushed something. He grunts and yells out in anger as he brings his shield up to join with his other hand, and block his face as he charges blindly at me shield first. I bring Holly across my body as a shield of sorts, and hold my ground with strong legs as my blade meets his charge. I push back, he doesn't move, but then suddenly half his body is encased in stone. I could hug William for his timing. This Blighter was proving to be a pain – we're almost evenly matched. The others I've fought so far, despite getting more hits, didn't quite seem to resolute. I swing Holly around and smack the dwarf hard into his temple, shattering the stone and sending him to the ground in the process. I don't see the crossbow bolt shot at me, until it's embedded in my shoulder. It doesn't quite feel like any crossbow injury I've had before. It-it burns! The last thing I see is the arena's floor quickly meeting my face, and I think I hear someone yell my name.


	11. (Apollo Wings) The Hangover

Author note: I'm getting the hang of this 1st person lark... so much so that when I'm thinking William is making snarky inner comments. "Balls. Of. Steel." - utter bastard isn't he?

Also - this chapter contains a little 'adult situations' - so if you don't like it - skip past the bit wholly in italics - you don't need to read it but it's rather interesting.

I hope you guys like how we do the overlapping bits - almost going back a bit before continuing with storyline - we're evil like that, because we like cliffhangers too.

Gah! Isn't the new cover image amazingly slendiferous! As done by Musicalrain herself! Love love love it!

* * *

**William Amell**

Argh. I wish I hadn't bent to peer pressure. My head is buzzing. The inherent lyrium of Orzammar, our proximity to the darkspawn and my natural headache only making it all worse. Dirt-beer. And here I though whiskey was terrible. I can almost hear Gregor say something about how I'm a delicate mage flower. I raised my metal tankard - I know it's out of the blue but I can't help it.

"Ta Gregor, Duncan and all the Blighters the Grey Wardens have lost! May we endeavor never to lose so many again!" Argh - even slightly pissed I still sound like I ate a book. There was a sombre mood over the whole group but Alistair and Shiloh both raised their own tankards - as did Leliana and a rather blase Morrigan (not that she'd touched a drop as of yet). The sentiment I'm sure is there - whether or not it was out of actual emotion or bending to peer pressure of the group to seem more welcome than she was I'll never know.

"To Duncan. Besht shem ever liv'd." Shiloh clinked her tankard with mine - just how much has she had so far? I swear she's slurring near on every word.

"To Duncan." Alistair gulped, clinking his drink to ours.

"To all those lost to the darkspawn." Leliana gave a weak smile when her tankard joined ours.

"Yes... for all those who died." Morrigan rolled her eyes and clinked quickly before putting her drink back down on the table - still untouched.

The four of us who had been drinking took a traditional gulp of our drinks to seal the toast. Argh. I really have balls of steel to continue drinking this awful stuff. One of these days I'll find a drink I like. Something smoother maybe - with less dirt or fire in it.

"Right yer sodders..." Shiloh stood up, swaying slightly as she slammed an empty tankard down. "I'm off ta clean off tha 'spawn blood an' guts from me armor an' jus' get a lil' cleaner." I'm rather worried about our leader - she's not looking too good. "Oh... an' did I tell yer all I got us accommo- accommo- rooms 'ere?"

"When did you do that?" Alistair stared up from his pint, the froth sticking to his upper lip. I almost giggled - giggled! At the sight! Alcohol on a skinny stick like myself is not a good combination.

"Ferget... s'all paid fer though." Shiloh grabbed Holly and made for the stairs that lead to the accommodation here at the tavern. My eyes naturally watched her chainmail covered behind - swaying a lot as she moved. Dammit - I should not be doing that. Bloody idiot is what I am. Leliana stood up and pushed her half of a pint at me and Alistair.

"I best make sure she doesn't drown in the bath - she may not like me but I'll try my damnedest to be a good friend." Leliana followed after her, light-footing over the spilled beer and blood that looked permanent on the floor.

"If it is alright with the two slaves to the Chantry I shall retire too. I have found this entire evening rather tiresome and frivolous." Morrigan sniffed, pushing her still untouched pint at me and Alistair before slinking up the stairs herself. Looks like we're left alone. Great - mage and templar both tipsy with practically four pints still to drink between us.

Alistair leaned back into the stone bench and looked bleary eyed at the pints of beer as if he was going to tackle them any moment - he just needed to psyche himself up for it. "You like her don't you?" Huh? Where did that come from?

"Who?" I picked up my own - three quarters full pint, trying my best to hide behind the metal drinking vessel.

"That scowling leader of ours - I saw the way you watched her go up those stairs. I'm not blind." He grasped the handle of his pint and tipped it forward into his mouth. "Ack - I'm not going to get used to that!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I sniffed, drinking the horrid dirt-beer as quickly as humanely possible. I gasped for air a few moments later. The taste of dirt seems to be gone when the alcohol sets in a bit. "Shiloh is a bonny lass, I'd have to be blind not to notice that - but as you can see - I'm no oil painting and I'm a mage. No woman in their right mind who isn't a mage would spare me a second glance - Void take it - not many mages look for relationships with fellow mages. Maybe a quiet fumble in a templar free corner - we haven't been fitted with chastity belts as of yet." I felt the blush creep up my neck all the way to my hairline when I finished blabbering.

"You do like her!" Alistair joined me in blushing. "Chastity belts?"

"Aye - you ne'er thought I were a blushing virgin did yer lad?" Oh - the alcohol is starting to affect me now. It's buzzing more and has a mildly sedative affect. Must not drink so quickly in future.

"Well... I erm... have never really had the... pleasure." Alistair turned bright scarlet and chugged to the end of his beer - picking up Leliana's half left. Oh - that leaves me with Morrigan's untouched pint. "Being a templar - we're not encouraged to have um... carnal... relationships. Duty to the Maker and all that."

"You tell that to the templars in Kinloch Hold! I swear most of them are hoppin' in mage beds at the end of a busy day of subjugatin' us." I clapped him on the back and he spat a little beer back into his tankard.

"Holy Andraste... really?" I smiled at him. Ah - the naivete of him. It was rather funny. Did I just think of a templar as funny? Maker - I'm a weird one.

"Aye. Even Flora had a soft spot for one of 'em. Rather young sorta lad, Ser Cullen." Alistair looked at me and pursed his lips.

"Who's Flora?" He started to drink Leliana's half pint.

I put down my now quarter full pint then decided to finish it and start on Morrigan's abandoned one to garner up the courage to actually put this into words. "Flora... ah, a lovely lass - one of my best friends who may have - asked me of a favor once - to, how would you put it... deflower her?" If Alistair could have spat out more beer into his drink - he would have made beer. And most probably been made one of those dwarven things... Paragons... the man who could make beer by spitting!

"She just asked you?" His voice had risen to a near squeak.

"Aye. Want the story?" I leaned forward conspiratorially. Alistair nodded in mute shock. I don't know whether it was the alcohol or the fact I'm a damned stupid blighter - but I started the story. The corners of my mouth lifted a little as it started to come back to me.

* * *

_The library was dark this time of night - no time for apprentices to be out of our dormitories but a meeting of this sort wasn't going to be the best of ideas in the crowded bunks - Jowan snoring above us. I scanned the darkness for her and settled upon the fellow Spirit Healer, her purple Tevinter style robes marking her also as an Arcanist.  
_

_"Flora?" The lithe elven figure came out of the shadows and drew me into them, pulling me into a quick but heated kiss. I broke away, regaining a little space between us and I felt the blush creep over me entirely. "I don't know if I can do this lass. I got your note... I-"_

_"William." She cut me off. "If you read it properly you'd understand. I... I don't want to have the burden of my virginity hanging over me. I... I want to lose it. Lose it to someone who'll care for me. Not someone who doesn't give a rat's arse."  
_

_"But not like this." I shook my head. "You know how I feel." I'd felt it ever since she'd given me the tattoos on my shoulders and elbows. Then on my face - subjecting my skin to her gentle touch during the dead of night as she numbed me with a healing aura. "But you don't. I can't take something this precious from you without knowing that you care for me - even in the slightest."  
_

_"Blight it William! I do care for you. But you're my friend." Flora drew closer to me. "I can't care for you more than I do and I can't trust anyone else to do this for me." I drew closer myself. She trusted me. My fellow Spirit Healer and Ponderous Mage, one of the few constants in my life here at Kinloch Hold. She trusted me. I bent to capture her lips with my own and her hands automatically went into my hair, pulling out my leather tie._

_Her body melded into mine and she pulled me into the shadowed corner. I could feel myself hardening at the mere thought of what we were going to do and she let out a small gasp when I pressed into her thighs through both our robes. "Flora... here? I... you know... I haven't done this either."_

_"Then we'll learn together." She whispered into my ear, nibbling on my earlobe. "I'll show you how to pleasure me, and you can show me how to pleasure you." I gulped. I was really doing this. I'm entertaining the idea of it... no - I'm doing it. Shit. _

_"Maker Flora... be gentle will you?" She stopped the nibbling and looked at me, her eyes darting away from my own._

_"Carried away. Now where were we?" She pushed upwards again and forced her lips on mine and I was lost in the moment, the faint smell of the camomile soaps she used, the way she was so warm through our thin robes. Andraste preserve me, I had her against the bookcase, her slim thighs wrapped around my waist for leverage. "So are you going to..." Flora broke away and trailed off, glancing down the the juncture between her thighs where her robes had been hiked up.  
_

_Maker... she wasn't wearing any smalls. It was as if she knew what... that I'd say yes. I leaned her more into the bookcase for support and had a hand guided to her damp curls. She moved my fingers to rest on a small soft nub, motioning them in a circle around it. With her other hand she pressed a finger to my lips as has arched her ribcage up to me._

_I felt her squirm when she let my hand go and I sped up slightly. I was getting harder by the moment but the way Flora was pushing into my waist, the muscles of her thighs tightening around me, the way her heart was speeding up. I was entranced by the whole thing and gently slipped a finger downwards - I knew anatomy, I'm not daft - she was so wet, I couldn't believe the feeling of my finger inside her tight core. My thumb continued to circle around the nub I'd been shown as I moved my finger in a jerking motion, backward and forward._

_She was panting harder, her chest heaving into me as I continued. "Stop..." She put a hand on my chest and brushed a hand into her short black hair. "I'm not the only one here who's going to have some fun." I felt it as she released her hold around my waist and she slipped down to pull my robes up to where her legs had been, slipping me out of my smalls and gently stroking up the length of my cock._

* * *

"Ah - William you ...err don't have to go into that much detail. I... uh... get it!" Alistair had downed the end of his pint and looked a little green about the gills despite the lazy way he was moving and speaking. I was quite surprised he'd managed to listen for that long to be completely honest. "So... Flora was an elf?"

"Aye - Flora's an elf." I smiled weakly into the rest of Morrigan's pint and downed the last dregs. I held up my hand and signaled for two more - because this would take it. "When we were done, she wanted ta keep it purely platonic between ush."

"Could you?" Alistair leaned toward me and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Void - I could hear it in my own words!

The two pints were quickly brought to our table and the empties taken away as well as the four coppers for the drinks I'd managed to scrounge up out of my satchel. I looked at the dirt-beer and took a gulp of it - it's getting easier to drink this swill. "I had to. Flora was one of my besht friends. She was intereshted in the templar and I was left shtudying an' doing extra-curric... curric... lessons wiv tha other Ponderous Mage in Kinloch Hold... Anders - that ish, when he wasn't doin' his eshcape tricks."

"That's... rather sad." Alistair gave me a smile and a deep breath. "So... you're attracted to elves primarily or..." He trailed off.

"Not per se... It jusht so happens tha' Flora was elven as is... well... yer know." I didn't want to really admit it. I don't know exactly how much I could trust Alistair to keep this a secret - he knew of course, but still... I'm pissed and so is he. I don't need to make sense. Come to think on it - I'm rather odd in the fact that I don't see a major difference between humans and elves... pointy ears aside. "Shiloh doesn't look at me in tha way - so I'll be her friend." Noble self-sacrificing bastard that I am. "Attractshion is a rather fickle mishtress isn't she? Makes ya wanna do stupid things?" Like go upstairs and tell Shiloh things I'll lose these balls of steel for or just get plain stabbed through the middle with Holly for. It's not as if I've even know the lass that long either! But it's those moments when she blushes, when she has a damned cute smile, how she just fits when she hugs me, the top of her head just under my chin. I can't think like this - I'll be all messed up. Stupid sod is what I am. Delicate mage flower and stupid sod to boot.

"Or it could be the alcohol." Alistair put a hand on my shoulder and finished up his pint with ease, plying my own tankard away from me. "Easy sport - let's take you upstairs - get you asleep and with a clearer head in the morning you can think about what you're saying." Ah... so true. Why do I feel so warm and slow?

I was half carried over Alistair's shoulder as we swayed up the stairs - bumping into the stone walls. I'm going to have bruises come tomorrow morning.

How did we find the right room? A very helpful barmaid directed us. It seemed she handled this sort of clientele often.

* * *

I woke up with my legs hanging all the way off the low dwarven bed - completely devoid of clothing sparing my smallclothes and the tunic I've been wearing constantly under my robes because of the cold outside of Orzammar. Now however... I'm too hot. My mouth takes like vomit and dirt with a distinct hatred of drinking that's difficult to place.

And my head! I don't want to think how painful it is! I reached inwardly to my mana and summoned a healing aura to numb the throbbing pain. I'm only half successful. I note the pitcher of water on the bedside table and hurriedly poured a mug for myself - swallowing it back as if I'd never had any liquids my entire life. My body aches, I just want to sleep... funny though - no darkspawn dreams.

I look around the room, Alistair is passed out and dribbling into a pillow - most of his clothes scattered about the room and I pulled off my tunic, heading for a stone bath in the room adjacent. I used tired muscles to heft the pump up and down until warmed water started pouring into the tub. I quickly divested myself of my smallclothes and eased into the water. Maker... I stink. Sweating during the night and waking up with a cracking headache from drinking. Not how I planned this morning to go.

Not how I plan any morning to be completely honest. Why do I feel like I've done something stupid? Where is some soap?

I located a small coal-tar bar of soap and scrubbed myself clean in the water. I took some time to relax, taking deep breaths in and getting the grease and grime out of my hair. I wonder how they make it warm? I suppose it'd have something to do with the geothermic heat from the lava. Oh - hark at me - hungover and still able to think in multi-syllabic words! I sluiced of the lather and stood up in the bath, kicking the plug out and watching for a few moments as the water drained out...

I should think more. I have no towel. Fuck.

I hurried into the room, dripping water everywhere as I found a towel sort of neatly folded at the foot of Alistair's bed - under him. Argh. I yanked it out as quickly as possible before running back into the bathroom.

I bent over the bath, wringing out my hair as best I could before roughly towel drying it and then working down my body until I reached my feet.

"William?" Shit... I froze to the spot. Do I answer? If I don't Alistair could just walk right in here. "Are you alive? I don't think I am."

"Barely." I answered, wrapping the damp towel around my waist. I don't suppose I have any clean clothes around here? Argh... dirty clothes. Well hopefully we could locate Bodahn and Sandal where-ever they're restocking and I could at least grab a clean tunic and smallclothes to go under my robes. Alistair plodded into the bathroom, bloodshot and half naked - just some padded britches that he wore under his armor to cover himself.

"I feel sick? Is... is that the privy?" He was staring at a hole in the ground and I could vaguely remember a sign outside of Tapsters saying they were 'plumbed in' - which meant they had pipes that drained into a central cesspool that was disposed of in the lava - in at least half the rooms. I wonder if the lasses got a plumbed in room? I did read a bit in the Shaperate - not just lyrium mining. I nodded mutely as Alistair rushed toward it and promptly emptied whatever he had in his stomach. Poor ex-templar. Poor me - I feel just as terrible.

I hurried out the room and started looking about for my clothes... did I just strip off when I was drunk? Maker... I'm never getting that much alcohol in me again. Ever. My stomach is rebelling. I hate the sound of someone being sick - it just make me feel worse. Blighted headache is worse though. I gripped a temple and forced another tendril of numbing into it as well as a burst of healing to soothe the dehydrated brain. I need another drink of water.

Alistair shuffled back into the room a few moments later - queasy but looking better for having been sick. He slumped onto his bed and started laughing. "Well what's so funny? That bark of yours is really painful at the moment!" I turn to see him shucking on his tunic, his splintnail greaves already strapped on. Bastard can get dressed quicker than I can.

"Now don't get pissy!" He laughed. "But last night you said very interesting things."

"Huh? And what do you mean by that?" I swear my voice raised a few octaves at the end of that sentence but I couldn't wait for a moment. "I'm going to be sick." And with that I was knelt to the floor in the bathroom - Alistair's hands holding my hair away from the hole as I felt the acidic burn of the beer come back up - dirt and all.

"Last night you said you _like_ Shiloh." I glanced upward. Huh? When did that happen? Not only do I not like like her... no I don't... I'll make things difficult for me. I know she doesn't think of me that way so I'll have to move on. Lucky me...

"I'd have thought I'd have remembered that." I spat a gob of spit down the hole and sluiced some water down, wiping my mouth off with the edge of my towel.

"Maker William! Give a man fair warning before you whip yourself out!" Huh... shit - I'm still just in the towel. Where in the Void are my clothes?

* * *

Still reeling from the aftershocks of last night and dressed in yesterday's clothes (how am I going to patch the hole in the back? I can do medical stitching - not darning and hemming!) - argh - we we downstairs in the bar, complementary breakfast of something called nug. It tasted odd - salty and rather gamey.

"So I don't remember you saying how you found that dwarf woman... Nerav Helmi?" I glanced over to Alistair.

"Well - the bitch of a witch-" Hey - he did the same thing as Shiloh! "and myself were arguing when Leliana and you slunk off... this dwarf overheard her say something along the lines of 'I'm sure Grey Wardens ought to have more decorum toward any allies they have.' When this dwarf comes up to us... asks us if we actually are Grey Wardens. It seems our arrival was already in the gossip mill you see. We had this rather nice sit down lunch with her and she told us everything we came back and reported to you with."

"Rather easier than going to Dust Town then..." I pursed my lips. I killed yesterday. Maker - I did - and I felt fully justified in taking those lives with Leliana. Hopefully Dharma would have a better life up in Denerim with her bairn. A life where they wouldn't get branded for being alive.

* * *

As luck would have it - the Proving, the thing we had to do in order to gain Lord Harrowmont's audience so we could step up and support him as King was today. And of course - Shiloh had decided she was going to represent us.

Now I'm not volunteering. They're fighting with live blades. Not even blunted things I could heal bruises from. Things that can stab and make insides become outsides very easily. They had said that death isn't the goal in these battles but give a man a wound and an infection and death would be highly probable. It's an 'Honor Proving' - no deaths.

The rest us us made our way into the stands when the roster had been posted and were waiting on tenterhooks, watching the opening acts of 'nug wranglers' and 'fire-eaters' before the first bout was called. If I could have been waiting for the spike in heartbeats I would have waited for that moment because the whole of the stadium responded with a rise in temperature and heart rates.

"Lords and Ladies of Orzammar!" The Proving Master yelled over the din of the stadium. "Please put your hands together for the first of many glorious Proving bouts in the name of our late King Endrin Aeducan!"

There was a pause. "Standing on the north side and honoring Lord Bhelen Aeducan - Seweryn of the Warrior Caste!" The crowds erupted in applause. "And on the south, honoring Lord Pyral Harrowmont - a new contender - Commander Tabris of the Grey Wardens!" Well, I suppose that Shiloh is our commander - of all three of us including herself. Funnily enough - the dwarves cheered for her. She came out of her entrance and there was a hush. She looked so small from where I'm sitting - Maker - even Holly looks bigger than her! Seweryn came out of his northern entrance, a bit of fanfare as he displayed his sword and shield.

After that I watched between a gap in my fingers, a flurry of what looked to be a very angry Shiloh against dwarves completely unaware of her skill. "And now for the first team round!" Huh? Makers breath - they'd made her fight two dwarves in the second round, they didn't need to try it again did they? "On the north side we have Wojech Ivo, a true master at arms who uses a different weapon in each bout he fights and Velanz his second!" Cheers erupted in the stadium. "Now! Who shall Commander Tabris choose? Quiet in the stadium!" It was eerie how quickly the sound died down. A dwarf scurried onto the field and looked to be physically shaking her for an answer. The noise of the stadium was almost so quiet that a pin could have been heard drop. Eventually she answered.

"Warden William Amell." Fuck. I didn't want to go down there but there must be a reason. I half ran down the stands and used the only skill I had once out of the stadium and running through the fighters quarters - the Warden Senses. I'll find her. There's pain running in waves as I reach her position on the sandy arena floor. Everything is horridly colored with blood - the sand and Shiloh's chain.

I should have watched more closely but it looked to be barbaric. She stumbles toward me and with no ceremony gasps for healing. I took no time in lowering my hand atop her head and forcing a healing aura into her. Fuck. I can feel every single bruise and bump she has, her fractured ulna, her torn muscles in her leg - that has chainmail embedded in it. I quickly and with no worry for pain as I have a healing aura up pull the damaged armor out - thank the Maker I'm so tall so I can keep the contact with her head as well as being able to reach her leg. I think I read somewhere that your span between arms is the same as your height. Focus! I drew her shards of bone together and melded muscles, fatty tissues and flesh into the right places - bloody quickly so she doesn't lose blood mind you.

Just how is she still standing? It reminds me a bit of how Gregor said he didn't feel any pain until a battle was over. I might mention that to her. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked me dead in the face, the fire back in her eyes.

"Thank you." She pulls away from my hand almost sharply and picks up Holly from the floor. I hadn't even noticed she'd dropped her. Our two opponents - Wojech and Velanz had filed in though the north entrance as I took the time to heal her. "I'll take the big one." She looks over at me but my attention is on our opponents. I'd assume the big one is the sword and shield - Wojech. That leaves me with Velanz.

"Must mean I get the one with the axe and dagger then, aye lass." I make sure I'm not glowing blue anymore and pull up a coating of the sandy floor around me as armor. If I'm going to fight this'll be hand to hand almost - and I'm not built for that sort of combat. I need armor.

I pull out my staff as a horn blares - starting the round. The dwarf Velanz starts to charge although his fellow - Wojech has started to circle Shiloh, Velanz has his axe high and dagger low. Ah - so I'm being underestimated? Good. I responded by pulling the loose static of the air and discharging it at him. The dwarven resistance to magic is quite good - but I've halted him where he stands.

He's staring with a look between shock and disbelief. I don't suppose a mage has ever fought in a Proving. There doesn't seem to be shouts of disapproval - if anything it sounds like cheering. Not that I'm paying attention to the crowds, all I'm focused on is the heartbeats around me, the dull thuds.

Velanz is quaking now, his heartbeat getting erratic - but he's not going to get up to fight anymore. I let down the lightning and stride over to his slumped body, the blade at the end of my staff held under his chin. He nods mutely to the act and I turn to see Shiloh get a sword to the wrist. Fuck that's got to hurt like a bitch!

The axe seemingly comes out of nowhere and is deep in my ankle when I note Velanz is up and clutching to one dagger - eyes wide and backing away from me. I can't focus enough for lightning and pull the sandstone armor into a huge fist - sending it right at his head.

Velanz goes down but his heartbeat is still there. Bloody bitch-born- I turn my attention to my ankle and focus a little healing aura over the limb as I wrench the axe out, mending the torn ligaments and tendons. It wasn't as deep as I thought I'd be but fuck it hurt. Healing done I hear a grunt and Wojech Ivo is down. Shiloh is breathing heavily over him and I rush over, the healing aura still up.

"I need healed again." And you also need to stop getting in the way of danger. I swear - if we don't crown Harrowmont at the end of this I'll be putting a big test on dwarven magic resistance. We should be fighting darkspawn and the Archdemon - not dwarves so we can put a crown on one of their heads. Ah - for the dwarven troops. Huzzah and all that. I put a hand onto her head, her hair is slicked with sweat and pushed behind her ears, her cheeks flushed in exertion.

I suck in a sharp breath, it sounds slightly like a 'tsk' but that's not a nice wound on her forearm. "I need you to remove your gauntlet lassie."

She shucks it off without so much as wincing as the metal scrapes over the wound and I move my hands to hold onto her slightly sweaty forearm, holding the gash closed while I heal. I'd have stitched this regardless of how new the wound is. It's deep. Hopefully it would hold like this and I could do a proper job later.

"You may choose two more of your companions to join you in this final match, Commander." Damn - concentration lost. Good thing I'd just finished but still. Shiloh pulled back on her damaged gauntlet and turned to the dwarf running onto the field for her answer. I reached into my satchel and grabbed a lyrium potion.

"Warden Alistair and Ward." I almost choked on my potion. I suppose Ward is an honorary Warden - he's got that same thrum as us - the Taint. I wonder if that flower in the Wilds is like a mabari Joining ritual on tainted dogs. Interesting.

We waited a few moments and Alistair and Ward came down battle ready. Shiloh turned to me as our opponents entered through the north side. I want to know how this is fair - we're in the arena constantly - we're not getting rests. And we're all still hungover! Bloody Void that we've done so well. "Focus on the crossbow and support." I nodded and she turned to the fellow Wardens (Now that the thought is in my head - Ward is a Warden). "I'll take the Blighter in the front. You two have your picks of the others." I hope our mabari Warden understood that.

We stood as a V formation, myself in the back behind the melee fighters and we readied our weapons. The horn blared out again for us to start and I summoned up the energies in the sandy floor, pulling the sand into two hard stone fists rather than sandstone, bringing the particles closer together until they're nearly as strong as granite before shooting them, one at the crossbow wielder and another at one of the dagger wielders that Ward had started to tackle, his strong jaws clamped over an arm.

Alistair was matching his dagger wielder bash and slash evenly matched to stabbing. I briefly brought the static in the air to coalesce at him for a brief moment before Alistair gave him a good whack on the head with his shield. I felt Shiloh's heartbeat go up and dragged at the unruly sandy stone energies - trapping the dwarf she was fighting all the way up to his chest before she smashed him in the head with the flat of Holly.

I turned my attentions back to Alistair and Ward - Ward still tackling his dual dagger wielder which means - shit. I saw the crossbow bolt whizz through the air almost in slow motion and thunk into Shiloh's shoulder. She briefly looked shocked then was going face first into the sand - both a small cloud of the coarse sand up in a flurry and the bolt shoved straight through her. "Shiloh!"

I couldn't let myself get distracted. I forced the whole of the cloud of sand into a fist and hurtled it at the crossbow wielder at the same time as Alistair knocked him with the edge of his shield to the floor. The fist caught him on the edge of the head and he went down. "Alistair - help Ward!" The dog was still latched onto his dwarf - distracting him enough to not to get any good swipes at him but not enough to get him. I skidded toward Shiloh as out of the corner of my eye I saw Alistair knock the last dwarf clean out.

"The victors are the Grey Wardens!" The Proving Master yelled over the positively raucous cheer of the crowds but I was solely focused on Shiloh. I moved her so she was on her right side, the fletching of the bolt was stuck deep in her left shoulder, the tip poking out at the back. Her shoulder was completely shattered from it and... poison. Someone had dipped their bolts in poison.

"Help me get her to the fighters quarters!" I yelled over to a bruised Alistair. We didn't wait for the accolades, I wasn't listening to the Proving Master. I latched my arms around her middle, throwing her over my shoulder with as much care as possible before shakily standing up. Maker - her chainmail is heavy! I was careful not to jostle the bolt and focused on not slipping in the sand and her heartbeat. Fucking bastard poisoned his bolts. I'm going to seriously test dwarven magic resistance when Shiloh is awake again.

I was barely aware of Ward around my feet, yipping for his mistress and Alistair pushing open the doors into the fighters quarters. As gently as possible I put Shiloh down onto a medic cot on her right side (seems they're used quite often judging by the bloodstains on it). I fumbled for a lyrium potion and uncorked it, putting it on the floor as I started a healing aura to numb everything. "Are you okay William?" Fucking stupid question Alistair.

"Just stay quiet - I need concentration for this." He backed away and I sighed. Shiloh is going to kill me for this. "I need to remove her shoulder guard and chain from her torso. Get me some strong shears so I can cut the bolt at the back because it'll cause more damage going the way it came. I also need something to counteract..." I carefully dabbed the hem of my sleeve on the tip of the bolt so not to jolt it and sniffed. "Deathroot poison. It smells like deathroot." Sometimes a sensitive nose was rather good. Especially now.

"What happened down there?" Leliana and Morrigan were pushing through a throng of dwarves to get to us. Fuck's sake!

"Alistair - chop chop!" Alistair started to move, explaining to Leliana as they went. I heard a gasp and Leliana started to break into a run, the familar gait and clank of Alistair after her. Morrigan came up behind me and walked calmly round to the other side of the cot.

"She's going to wake up soon. Your aura won't numb the poison despite the power you're pouring into it. Tis quite interesting to watch you spend so much energies on a mere elf." Damn. The witch speaks true. I could feel her fighting unconsciousness.

"Keep her asleep then." I spoke through gritted teeth, I wasn't going to say anything on the 'mere elf' comment yet. Bitch of a witch. Morrigan waved her hands over Shiloh and I felt her delve back into unconsciousness. With the detached nature I had to adopt I started to unbuckle Shiloh's armor, taking utmost care not to hurt her - I can't let the bolt cause more damage.

Chain and shoulder guard off I pushed the chain down. I could feel the poison snaking in her veins, the way she was fighting against it. Where in the Void were Alistair and Leliana? Carefully I pulled open the stitching on her tunic so not to take it off.

As if in answer to my inner thoughts Leliana was there, shears and a bottle in her hands. I took the bottle without any words and started to pour a little over the tip of the bolt. The deathroot let off a smell like lilies when in contact to it. "What the fuck?" I hissed. Lilies smelt like death - being the traditional flower at funerals and burnings.

"It's neutralized." Leliana huffed. I had to trust her as I took the shears off her and snipped the end of the bolt off, I brushed it away and with a reluctant finger pushed the bolt back out of the front of her shoulder, grasping the bloody fletching when possible so I could remove my finger from the wound. I threw the tip-less bolt away and held the palm of my hand against the back of her shoulder as I angled Shiloh to pour more of the deathroot neutralizer.

The poisons affect disappeared from her blood and I picked up my uncorked lyrium flask - chugging it back. Gah - it's a strong one. But I need the mana. I focused on bringing the shattered shoulder back into the correct form before suturing her muscles and tissues and finally flesh. I slumped back onto my feet - mana exhausted from the intensive wounds. "Wake her up." I drawled to Morrigan.

The witch obliged and Shiloh's eyelids fluttered before she looked straight at me, her vision unfocused.

"Well I feel like I've gone ten rounds with Michael the Bruiser." Shiloh sighed. I felt the edges of my mouth tug upwards.

"It seems I have a knack for healing. Did I ever tell anyone how much I hate healing? I feel the pain as I'm doing it. Very-" Shiloh up a finger up to my lips. Hushing me.

"Thank you." But it was my fault. I didn't follow orders and take the crossbow out. It was my fault. But I couldn't bring myself to say it.

I reached up to her hand and pulled her finger away from my lips. "It was poisoned." The curses that streamed out her mouth after that was worse than having to heal such a horrid injury.

She finally ended it with. "If Harrowmont doesn't see us now - I'm going to kill some fucking dwarves." Alistair ran into the room.

"I see she's awake. Angry at you taking her chainmail off?" Just how did Leliana get here so quickly when Alistair was still flushed from running and only just arrived? Shiloh turned a very amusing shade of pink from the tips of her ears to her neck.

"I didn't leer at anything lass!" I put my hands up in defense. Shiloh just grumbled and pulled her ruined tunic up and re-buckled her broken chain and shoulder guard. I'm not dead! Yippee!

* * *

As we walked out of the the Proving grounds a dwarf was running to catch us up. "Grey Wardens!" Shiloh turned around. "Wait up a sodding moment!" What did he want?

He stood for a moment, leaning into his knees. "You sodders walk fast." He huffed before pulling a leather bag off his belt and handing it over to Shiloh. "Your winnings from the Provings."

"Huh?" Shiloh opened the leather bag and her eyes widened. "There has to be five sovereigns in here!" She picked up a few of the coins and her eyes widened further. "There's seven!"

"Five rounds and... Ancestors tits... two for winning the whole lot. Enjoy it." He the started to walk away. Shit - seven sovereigns. That's more money than I've even seen!

"Well - we've been paid for that fucking fiasco. Who feels like another big night to celebrate?" Shiloh smirked. Argh. Not again. Not the dirt-beer. Thankfully it seems we all groaned. "Fine - but maybe new armor - I think we're in desperate need." She motioned to the fact she was having her chain and shoulder guard scrape against her newly healed shoulder - sort of my fault but I couldn't properly remove the bolt without ripping the seams of her tunic.

Bloody dwarves shouldn't be using poison in a so called 'Honor Proving'. I'd still have had to break her tunic - but maybe not so much - I could have done a better job of healing it for sure.

* * *

We were caught up by a dwarf called Dulin Forender - Pyral Harrowmont's advisor and first lieutenant. He bade us follow him after watching us fight 'with great Honor' in the Provings. Honor my arse - we survived that blood sport there was no honor in carrying a poisoned Grey Warden Commander into the fighters quarters and having to heal her until I was spent of all mana - after a potent lyrium potion mind you.

Shiloh seemed to agree but we followed this Dulin Forender to Harrowmont's estate in the Diamond Quarter nevertheless. Then - we got to see the man himself (other than our brief sight of him when we first arrived in Orzammar). He was fairly slight and tall for a dwarf, with a bulbous nose and a warm smile under a beard her could have wrapped around his head thrice-fold. An - what looked to be a staff on his back. Whatever for?

"Ah! The Grey Wardens who fought in the Proving for my side!" He greeted us warmly. Shiloh stiffened.

"Yes - we did. Although you should be aware that Lord Bhelen has crossbow bolts poisoned in the last round." That was oddly calm for Shiloh - I'm sure I'd be much worse - swearing even. Then again - we're relying on Harrowmont to give us troops. Politeness is key. I'm still recovering from emptying my pool of mana - so maybe my opinion isn't going to be good.

"Ancestors preserve us! How far will he go as to gain the throne to try and poison a Grey Warden?" Harrowmont shook his head, a hand resting on the furrow between his eyebrows. "But I fear that what you have done today - although it will dent his reputation - will not be enough for me to take the throne."

Shiloh put a hand on her hip. "So what are you asking?" Very astute that lass - but then again - most people would be able to see through that. Even me.

"You don't wait do you? It seems I have a black omen hanging over my ascension to the throne. The Carta - a criminal ring in Dust Town have been known to work for Bhelen and have been doing their utmost to rob, drug and outright kill my men. I need to show the dwarves of Orzammar that I can lead them, that I can be a strong leader that deals with such threats. I need them apprehended if not... well..." We're killing now? We're killing Casteless dwarves to get the army we need? If we sided with Bhelen we'd have those men siding with us against the Blight! Say we're not doing this Shiloh - just say it. Please. One word - it's 'No'.

"We'll try to apprehend those men - but I will not put us in needless risk." That's - sort of good. "If we could purchase some new armor, weaponry where needed. Then I shall attempt it."

"Say no more. I have personal armorers and smiths that can take your measurements and outfit all in your group." He looked around at us. "But it may take up to tomorrow afternoon."

"For armor for myself, Warden Alistair and the Orl- Leliana? As well as a new shield, sword and bow. My greatsword just needs sharpening." Shiloh is rather pragmatic really. Or - she's pissed off and wants to have us fighting fit - either way. I say - we're siding with him - we need to be on top form. How mercenary is that?

"Tomorrow noontime. I also give you free reign of my estate and all rooms you need." Ah - now I'm happy. No more sleeping in the tavern. We only had one night but I might get made to drink more dirt-beer. That is not an experience I look forward to repeating. It may have only been one night but it was a terrible waking up.

"I also have two mages with me." She gestured to me and then reluctantly at Morrigan. "Is there a way to get lyrium here?"

"I have lyrium." Harrowmont nodded. "It's easy enough to obtain in Orzammar." What the? Really? Can we go get lyrium? Please, please, please? I'm running out. I have one vial left - a weak one.

* * *

The generosity of Lord Pyral Harrowmont. I hadn't expected it - but then again, we were helping him get the throne. That's big business. Just how did someone like me end up in a position like this? I must remind myself that it was deviant behavior, aiding a blood mage escape from Kinloch Hold that put me here. That and sheer luck. I leaned back into the pillow on the bed - I'm going to be sleeping curled into a ball because of the size of this bed but I'm not complaining, even if sleep is a little illusive at the moment. We've been fed and watered, the melee fighters (and Leliana) of our group have been measured up for armor. Even my robes and tunic have been taken for mending. Yippee! No more holey clothes for me! Something has to be up. I unfurled myself and stretched tired muscles. Just sleeping trousers (well they reside just above my knees - they're supposed to come to mid calf - my legs are easily longer than the rest of me) on. Gah - I feel rather exposed. It's not like I'm unarmed at any point, a mage can't be without a Tranquil brand. I still feel exposed.

It's strange having a room to myself. All I can remember is sharing with apprentices too numerous and then a campsite with the rest of my current group. It's - odd. Strangely lonely. I shuffled on my hobnail boots and strapped them up before leaving the room. I walked down the hallway - just why do dwarves have such high ceilings, it doesn't serve any purpose to have them so high. But I'm not complaining - I'd hate to stoop constantly. I knocked on the door and waited a response from within.

"Who is it?" I felt even more awkward like this. Shit - do I have enough time to run back to my room and find something to cover up with? It'd be dwarven sized if it is.

"It's me lass. I'm - I'm having trouble sleeping so... maybe we could just chat awhile?" There was a brief shuffling from within and the door opened to reveal Shiloh in a mended tunic and hose - casual wear really suits her. I can't help but think of her in a dress though. It's odd... lasses in the circle wore robes, as did men. But it feels rather odd to see women not in something like that. How come she got hers back so quickly? Gah - I'm paying attention to small things. "Can..." I rubbed the back of my neck. "Can I come in?"

"Er... sure." Shiloh looked downwards a moment before stepping aside. I feel really bloody weird - but I can't sleep, my head hurts and I've used a lot of mana today. Not as much as Ostagar but I don't have the resources yet to be drinking lyrium like water. Or to be honest - the stomach. I don't know how I did it. I must have been pretty insane.


	12. (Musicalrain) The Merciful

Author Note: Yup! I painted us a cover people as per what Apollo requested! You can see the full-sized version on my deviantart account Musicalrain0

And btw – that's Ward in the background there. ;)

Also, we're taking turns this update and the next writing a 'short' chapter. This is my short chapter, next update will have Apollo's short chapter and my longer/more normal length chapter. Did that make sense? O.o

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

I fidget. This is rather uncomfortable.

"Please stay still Commander," the rather dusky-skinned dwarven woman taking my measurements asks me. That has to be the fourth time she's done that. I can't help it though – I've never had someone who wasn't my mother or Shianni or Nola (she was more bitchy about it if you can believe it) take my measurements. So a relative stranger with their hands in weird places is a little uncomfortable. It's understandable, isn't it?

She finishes up with the inseam of my leg – oh that's not fun. She then stands and scribbles something on a piece of parchment with a stick of coal. "Would you like me to take your tunic and hose in for mending, Commander?" I look at the ruined shoulder of it and the pink itchy wound exposed by the rip, and shake my head.

"I can mend it myself," then I add before she leaves, "thank you." Can't forget our manners now. We're in our sponsor's home. Devious bastard with a god-complex is probably more accurate though. Well, he fed us and footed the bill for our armor and weapons, maybe just a bastard with a god-complex then.

The woman leaves my borrowed room rather quickly though. I shuck off my tunic and fish out the sewing kit I bought earlier and had stuffed in one of my belt pouches. Poor tunic. It's my second ripped one in less than two weeks. And it was Natalie's. Oh, I wonder how the Hawkes are. I hope they got their arses out of Lothering before it was overrun. The darkspawn were heading right for there. Let's hope they had enough sense to listen to William.

I quickly and efficiently mend the shoulder of my tunic and sew the frayed edges of the cut in my hose together – that looks a little less than perfect due to the chain that was embedded in it, but who the sod cares. If anything, I should worry about getting them washed than little tares. They don't stink... too bad.

I decided to handwash them with the weird arse plumbing this Lord's house has. Fancy. And wash myself even though I don't have the Orlesian's soap. I was sort of really bloody and sweaty earlier – I can pamper myself! When I'm done soaking myself for a really long time (the water stays warm!) my clothes I had laid out by the lava-run fireplace are dry. I manage to track down a sorta-itchy towel and dry my hair throughly before sitting on the edge of my bed. Now I'm bored. Sodding great.

What to do, what to do... It's times like this I almost wish I was more literary inclined. A book, or a journal like William's, or Void even something to doodle on. I'm not tired, as I'm still relatively amped up from earlier – fighting to your last dregs and then nearly dying will do that to a person. Argh. That poison. Can I skewer Bhelen with Holly please? Oh, let's imagine that for a minute. There. I almost feel better. Almost.

I'm jostled out of anymore daydreams of killing the dwarven Lord by a knock on my room's heavy door. Odd. Is it the armorer's assistant again? Did I fidget too much and she got the wrong measurements?

"Who is it?"

"It's me lass." William? The fuck? "I'm - I'm having trouble sleeping so... maybe we could just chat awhile?" Aw. He sounds sad. Why is he having trouble sleeping? He didn't almost die. Then again, I think our drinking last night blocked the darkspawn nightmares, maybe he had one tonight? Let's see, shall we? Oh. Towel. Let's throw you in the corner. I open the door and... damn. Where are his clothes? Am I asleep and my mind just imagined this up? He's... shirtless with only his sleeping pants and boots on. I can totally see all his tattoos and... that curious little line of dark hair going from his navel straight to his – _Oh_. I'm pretty sure I'm going to the Void for that. "Can..." Oh, he's talking. And looking all embarrassed. Well. I'm pretty sure I am too. "Can I come in?" I'm seriously awake, aren't I? Well... I still have to be a good... friend, right? He did save my arse a few times today.

"Er... sure." Let's endeavor not to stare at... anything and help a fellow Warden out. He just wants to chat after all. I move aside and close the door behind him once he's in. He looks around the room briefly and just looks miserable. Oh. Sad puppy face. "Are you okay?" Don't make me hug you. I'll do it.

He turns towards me and shrugs. "Just a little worn out lass. Nothing too terrible. I can't really sleep, but otherwise I'm fine."

I screw my face up at him and cross my arms, "That's not all of it. I can tell." I uncross my arms and go to pull out the chair from the desk. Oh. He's not going to fit in that. I look up at him. "I can tell you exhausted yourself healing me... Thanks for that, again."

"You wouldn't have been hurt had I-"

I cut him off with a shake of my head and gesture towards my bed, "Just take a seat. We'll talk about something else. What's done is done. No point in dwelling on it." I could tell he just felt terribly guilty about the crossbow. He had that look about him when I woke from my fall in the arena.

He looks at the bed, and then back at me. "I'm not taking your bed Shiloh."

I point to the desk chair. "You're not going to fit in this with your sodding long legs." I point towards the bed. "Sit." He does so.

I pull the chair a little closer and sit heavily in it. A metal and stone chair. It's weird. "So..." I start. Uh – what to talk about? Oh. Well I was thinking about the Hawkes earlier. How about that? "Do you think your cousins made it out of Lothering?"

He rubs a hand across his brow. "Maker I hope so. They're the only family I have left."

"Hmm." I hum. "Mine are all still in Denerim. I have a few cousins in Rivain though. Only met them a few times."

His brow furrows, "Rivain? I thought you were Ferelden."

I nod, "I am. Mamae came from Rivain. Don't know why she moved here, but she was fixed up with Father once she settled in Denerim. That's why she knew how to fight so well. Almost every Rivaini – man, woman, elf, or human knows some amount of martial skill. Especially if they're a pirate."

His eyebrows fly to his hairline, and he leans forward. Apparently he's interested in my family history. "Your mother was a pirate then?"

I shrug, "I know my cousins are. I think she was too, but she never spoke about it." I look down at my hands. Darkly tanned, but not nearly as dark as Mamae's. "I look more like Father though. Same hair and eyes." I look back up at him, "How about you though? Your parents?"

He leans back, "I look like my father – tall, black hair, blue eyes. My mother had dark brown hair." He pauses, "Do you have many cousins?"

I purse my lips in thought. How many is 'many'? "I have five. Three Rivaini and two Ferelden. The Rivaini are Hella, Llars, and Yuri. And the Fereldens are Soris and Shianni. I grew up with those two. They replaced my lack of brothers or sisters."

"Ah. I only have the two – Natalie and Bethany."

"You have three," I reply. "Bethany's twin brother, Carver. I... don't think you saw him. He's a warrior. Uses a greatsword like me."

He blinks. "What does he look like?"

"Black hair too – shortly cropped. A bit of a bulky shem. Blue eyes too. Probably looks the most like you," I look over his face a little more critically. "Maybe." I stand up and roll my shoulders. "As exciting as all this family history is, how about we play some cards? Wicked Grace?" He wants to stay up, we'll stay up. Not sure how much sleep I could get anyway, what with the thrum of the darkspawn continually burning through my veins. I hate those bastards.

"I've played once or twice... I do really badly though. Daveth taught me." I think I stopped mid-step on my way to my discarded belt before swinging around to face him. Obviously seeing the shock on my face, he continues after briefly looking away, "But in the Tower gambling isn't actually encouraged amongst the apprentices. We can read about someone playing the game, but it's nearly impossible to get a deck of cards to actually play it."

"Well that's got to be one of the stupidest things I've heard today," I huff and bend to get my belt off of the low dresser. I dig out my worn deck from another of my larger pouches – never know when you'll need them. "Lets see if you can actually play." I cross the small bed to sit a little ways away from him on it, and immediately shuffle the deck. "We don't have to gamble for coin. We can keep points or something."

* * *

Oh sod. What time is it? I groan and bury my face further into the mattress. Where's my pillow? I stretch out a hand, still not opening my eyes thank you – there's light still coming through from that weird lava-fireplace thing, and blindly search for the dwarven-sized pillow. And then I touch it, or rather _him_. This is fucking lovely. Second day in a row I wake up next to a person I don't remember falling asleep beside. I turn my head some, and reluctantly peep open one eye... and yup. That's William. I felt his thrum alright. He didn't leave last night? The... umm... Oh shit he's starting to wake up, and my hand is still so totally on his chest. I snatch my hand back and squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep he'll just leave without me having to hurt him? It'd be a shame if he can't get the hint and Holly has to make it for him.

Due to my very lovely pointed ears, I can hear as he stretches, then sits up, and groans. I feel his weight shift on the bed and hear him mutter, "Oh I actually slept. I guess it wasn't a terrible idea to chat with the little scowling lass after all." 'Little scowling lass?' Oh, I don't think I like that. "My headache actually became more manageable after we started playing cards. Interesting. Maybe it has to do with my attention being drawn in a game of wits? I should probably try something similar next time my head feels like it's being beat on with a club." He gets headaches? He's a healer, can't he... fix it?

I peep open an eye again. Why the Void is he still in my room? Oh shit. He's standing up. Just leave, okay? Let's not make this unpleasant with fists and blood and things. "Ah..." Shit he's still here. Eye closing. Let's hope this shem knows how to keep his hands to himself, yes? I'd hate to have to gut the guy that does all the healing. Even as he's saved my hide a few times... I don't know. Should I kill the healer if he touches me? I've killed others for less, true. But he is my... friend, I guess. And friends don't really maim friends. And I kinda owe him... Hmm... Decisions. Decisions. "Shit!" Did he just yelp? "I'm in Shiloh's room still. I should be quieter. Don't want to wake her now. That... wouldn't be good. Not good. Not good." I hear him shuffle away a little, and then pause. "You're a beautiful lass Shiloh. I just wish I could say that to you when we're both awake. But what lass would look twice at a mage? Ah... I'd get gutted with Holly for saying anything anyway." The fuck? I open my eye again to see him slightly turned away. What the flaming shit did he just call me? He thinks I'm beautiful? Is he half asleep and muttering nonsense? Umm... Okay. I've... never been called that before. From Nelaros it was all 'you were spoken very highly of,' and some of the pirates by the docks called me... less pleasant things. And then there's my one pirate friend that would call me a 'pretty little thing', and sometimes... oh.

He's still here. What is he doing? It looks like he's looking for something all hunched over and lifting things up here and there. Loose your marbles? "I need to find my tunic. I swear I have a tunic." He's really out of sorts now isn't he? You weren't wearing one when you came over!

"Oh. Hello there. Er... good morning." I hear Ward whine. Now he's talking to my mabari? I can't really turn my head to look. I do that sometimes, but still. "Do you know what happened here boy?" I hear Ward's claws scrape against the stone floor and feel the weight of his head on the bed, before more claw scraping. "What's this? A card. Ah. I must've fallen asleep then during our game." He sighs, "So I did act like a gentlemen. That's... good. I should probably leave now. That's definitely a good idea. Don't want Holly through the middle now."

I hear the door open then close and sit up. I look towards Ward. "What the sodding flames just happened?" I'm... very confused. I was laying here pretending to be asleep, he calls me beautiful, and then just leaves? He's a shem, and every elven woman concerned about her safety knows shem men usually tend to find us... appealing. But he didn't _do _anything. Which is odd, and not very shem-like. He's a very strange shem. Should I feel insulted?

* * *

The rest of the morning and the two meals we had before our armor was readied, was... odd. William was a little chatty, even Morrigan mentioned on it. And I... actually had a conversation with the Orlesian that wasn't one-sided or about dresses or flowers. It was a sodding miracle. We spoke about armor. And then nugs. Now there's something weird with eating an animal the same time someone is going on about how cute they are. Just saying.

So now I'm standing in my borrowed room trying on my new armor that's pretty damn nice. It has a steel sallet, which is like a half helm, that covers the top part of my head. The steel of it above my eyes comes to a slight point in the middle, and it is cut out at the sides slightly to allow the pointed tip of my ears room. There is also a removable bevor made of steel lames – to protect the front of my lower jaw and neck, made out of steel plates riveted to 'bronto' leather to allow my head movement. The bevor is attached to a steel cuirass also made of lames and bronto leather, that lays atop a chainmail hauberk. I have a culet plated skirt of lames and bronto leather connected with buckles to the curiass, that extends over my arse and some of my chain chausses covering my legs. I also have solid steel grieves, gauntlets, spaulders and chain sabatons over my booted feet. It's more plate than I'm used to, but allows for more movement than solid plate. Almost like a sturdier splintmail with horizontal riveted plates.

Once my regular belt with belt-knife is secured, along with a sharpened Holly, I put the studded harness the armorer made up for Ward on him. They said it was similar to what they put on their brontos, and was enchanted with a small defensive rune. Now, I've never seen a bronto, but I don't know if the harness would do much in the way of protection without the rune. My armor doesn't have a rune. Apparently it's either armor or rune for Harrowmont. Whatever. It's very nice armor, and fits better than my mother's old chain. Her chain shirt, or hauberk, was a little long on me. And a little too wide in the hips and chest – which is sad. I hate taking after my father.

I go to our agreed upon meeting place, as we still have the Carta to deal with, near Harrowmont's estate doors. Morrigan's already there... with a vest and grieves on. They appear to be made out of bronto leather too. I didn't know Harrowmont was making her anything. Huh.

"New shit?" I ask and gesture towards the vest with rather clunky looking buckles she's currently wearing over her regular apparel. Hey, now I can't see more of her chest than my own. Small miracles.

"Tis not shit, as you say. Rather protection in the form of a lyrium weave lining and chain. Even these," she holds out her arm to indicate her grieves, "are imbued with lyrium. Most useful, I should say."

Alistair and Leliana come down the hall then. Alistair's armor looks similar to my own, except without the bevor and a full helm with a square-cut open face. His is also solid plate – heavy. The Orlesian's armor is also similar to my own, with what appears to be a steel cap-topped bronto leather hood instead of some sort of helm or bevor. Her chest piece is also made of steel lames, but instead of chain, she appears to be wearing heavy leather studded on the more vulnerable outsides of her arms and legs. Her grieves and gauntlets are the same heavy leather. Their weapons look like bigger versions of the normal dwarven-made weapons we've seen. Square and heavy.

"Everyone like their new things?"

Alistair goes to open his mouth to answer, but before he can, William comes bounding down the hall as quick as he can. He's smiling as he skids to a stop. "Hey look here." He opens his red robes some to show a lyrium weaved leather beneath a light chain. "Lyrium lining and chain over the more vital organs! It's rather ingenious. The design is very practical and light. I wonder who thought of it, and who decided to add it to my robes."

I point a thumb over at Morrigan. "The witch has something similar."

* * *

We head out of Harrowmont's estate towards Dust Town, and I am actually feeling more like a Grey Warden than I have before. Dwarves are nodding their heads in respect as we pass, and we're outfitted – really well. I wonder why Duncan didn't outfit us? Was it because we were recruits, and once we were Wardens we didn't have enough time before the mess that was Ostagar? Well... I suppose that since I'm Commander now (still not used to that) I'll make sure everyone is well taken care of. Given the coin. The only reason I was brawling with broken chain was due to the light purse. That's not a problem with a helpful dwarven lord backing us. Let's just hope this shit with the Carta is the last thing we need to do to secure Harrowmont's seat. This is starting to get sodding ridiculous. But I'm not daft enough to think we can fight an entire _horde_ of darkspawn without dwarven troops. The dwarves have the experience and the knowledge that I'm _certain _other troops are lacking. Heck if we had the help of dwarves at Ostagar, who knows how that slaughter would've turned out. I'd like to think there would have been a whole lot less butchering of people, and more butchering of darkspawn.

We get into the marketplace, and I ask William to take us to Dust Town, as I've yet to have the pleasure. We walk through a high stone archway, and into area of increasing filth and decay the further we walk past. The rather deserted area of dilapidated buildings finally gives way to an area, no less worn, with dwarves scattered about. The dwarves are mostly filthy, sometimes downright emaciated, and far, far too thin for the thick-boned people. It's revolting. It's horrible – and it pisses me off.

"This is worse than the fucking alienages," I growl out. I can clearly understand why the Orlesian and William did what they did when seeing a woman being beaten within inches of her life here. Humans abuse elves too, but here... they don't even have a sodding chance. What can they do stuck underground with no options? At least we elves are allowed to work. And we're not even of the same race! William and Leliana told me everything they knew of this place over our afternoon meal so I could have time to decide what to do, and how to do it. I know now.

I turn around to face those I lead, and I _know _I look pissed, because I am pissed. Flaming lording - "We're not killing a _single _Carta dwarf unless we need to. We're giving each one a sodding chance – either walk away and go to the surface, or attack and die. It's not their fault that some arsehole dwarven noble decided they were worth less than trash for their birth. They were practically forced into crime."

"I agree," Alistair says, he too never having been here. "This place... It has to be little better than the Deep Roads."

"So what are we to do now?" The Orlesian asks. "How are we to find the Carta?"

"We split up. Ask around for the location of their base. They've got to have one, and these dwarves are so sodding desperate, that five silver would set them up for a year." I nod my head behind me towards the more concentrated squalor, "We'll buy our information."

I see Alistair briefly look towards the witch, "Who's going with who?"

I shrug, "Don't care, cause last time none of you listened anyway. Just groups of two. Meet back here in no longer than an hour."

I walk away with Ward beside me, and decide to go down an alleyway – never know what you'll find. I spot a young girl, hair so dirty it looks black but was likely once fair, crouched over a pile of trash and sorting through it with a half-starved vigor. That's fucking depressing. It's even more depressing that this isn't my first time seeing something like this either.

She looks up with wide-glossy grey eyes, "D'ya have coin cloudhead? I'll do anythin' f'r a bit. Anythin' ya want."

I fight the urge to rub my brow, Ward wines. "Do you know anything about the Carta? I'd heard they were around here?" I try to sound as innocent and calm as I can. I don't want to frighten the girl, I need information after all, even if I doubt she'd know anything. You have to start somewhere.

"How much coin ya got?"

"More than enough." Her eyes dart around, before she grabs my arm to pull me down to her level.

She whispers with rancid breath, "Nadezda used ta work with the Carta, but now she can't walk 'n they don't want her. She'd know more 'bout 'em."

So, Nadezda huh? I quickly fish out five silver, and reach out my hand to her outstretched one stopping just short of handing the coin over. "Why don't you go to the surface?" I ask her. "You'd do better than this in Denerim. Or anywhere, really."

She shakes her head, wafting the smell of her dirty hair to my nose. "I'd fall inta the sky!"

I frown, "You wouldn't. Trust me."

She shakes her head, "Even so, Mammy can't get outa bed, and I ain't leavin' her." I frown deeper and give her the coin. She runs off as quick as her short legs can take her. I'm starting to really hate this place. This girl thinks she's going to fall into the sky for crying out loud.

I walk out of the alleyway with Ward, and, as I have no idea who this 'Nadezda' person is, I just start walking rather aimlessly. Maybe I'll find another person that I can pay for quick information. One that doesn't look like they'll try to stab me in the back – literally.

I turn the corner, and... I see William looking rather lost. Why the Void is he alone? Did I not say to stay in pairs?

I walk up to him, "Problems?"

He startles a little before turning towards me, "Oh! It's you lassie. I was just... um... Do you know where Morrigan is perchance?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Argh. We're going to have some serious problems if these people can't even follow simple instructions – like stay in pairs. Maker dammit. "No. I don't know where the witch is." I sigh. "Just come with me. I got a tip about someone named Nadezda." William's been... I don't know. He's the same but different – since last night that is. I still... don't quite know what to think about what happened. What he said. He's complimented me before too, I guess. It's odd – it's getting more difficult to think of him as a shem. He's my... friend. I even think I _haven't _thought of him as a shem in awhile. He's very different. Is that a good thing? It... might be. Well, I guess it is. A shem that doesn't act like a shem. Huh.

Anyway, we ask around, and an elderly man points us towards a woman sitting on a broken stone stoop for five silver. Turns out some guards forced Nadezda to kneel in filth with broken kneecaps until they were sure an infection sat in – for over half a day. The woman can't walk without what appears to be a rusty piece of metal from an old chair for support. I give her ten silver, and William tries to heal her. It's an old wound, but he's able to get her walking without the need of that rusty metal. Her gait is stiff, but she's thankful. Fucking relieved by the looks of it. She gives us directions to a house where some Carta members should be, and tells us about "fingerbone tokens" used as keys for the door to the Carta's base.

We return to the spot we set off from, to find Alistair, the witch, and the Orlesian already there. None of them had much luck, just troubled faces and lighter pockets. The tip from Nadezda is our best bet. We enter the house, and sure enough there's Carta inside. Poor sods. We frighten them into begging for mercy with Ward's growls and a few light shocks of William's lightening spells. None are seriously hurt, and we get the bone key. We tell them to go to the surface, or we'll kill them. They flee quickly.

The key is very much a fingerbone – the proximal phalanges according to William. It's carved, and it definitely opens the creepy foreboding door down the street. When we enter we see a couple of guards... on guard (it's what they're doing!). We give them the same offer as the other sods in that house received. Unfortunately one was a stubborn Blighter, and I had to kill him. Hey – he tried to stab Ward when all the mabari was doing was growling at him. I'd not have someone think they can stab my mabari _and _refuse an offer of mercy at the same time. The others, thankfully, had more sense. Don't mess with a woman's dog! Leave or die! I do believe I said that!

The other Carta members we come across the further into their base vary in their decisions. Some have to be injured (nothing too serious) before they'll flee, others die quickly when they refuse or think they can _kill _us, and others see what happened and run as fast as they can.

Then there's this Jarvia woman. I really don't give a flaming sodding fuck what the Void she's going on about. You want to die? Fine. We'll help you out.

The new armor works very nice in blocking a sneaky dwarven assassin's twin daggers. I bash him in the head with the flat of Holly, and once he's on the ground I pierce through his neck rather quickly. The room's trapped – I see them. The Orlesian is already working on ensuring no one is injured by them, as best she can. I chase down the sneaky dwarven Carta master and cut through the leg of her bronto leather armor with the now quite sharp bladed tip of Holly. I injure her before she can hide behind her traps or her henchmen. She tries to come in close with her twin daggers, only to have Holly's pommel meet her face. Her nose cracks and blood spurts down her face as quick as dwarven plumbing, and she throws an acid flask (acid!) at me. My helmet blocks most of it as I turn my face, but it still gets the side of my neck not completely covered by my bevor – and my ear. Now that just pisses me off – royally. You _don't_ mess with an elf's ears. I charge her in blind rage – ear injury, the feeling of the darkspawn insistently in my viens in this place, the desire for dwarven troops, and the adrenaline of the fight all coming together to aid my strength and determination.

"I'll gut you for that bitch!"

I get her to the ground – her head cracks on the stone. She gasps and attempts to shove her daggers in the spaces in my lames, but my chain stopping them from doing little more than bruising and causing pinpricks of blood. I wedge Holly between us, scraping her up the dwarf's leather armor until she reaches her neck. I push through the unprotected tissue with a yell and a red rush of anger and blood. The Carta leader is killed. Her henchmen don't last much longer than her.

William bounds between each of us healing our injuries – cracked ribs, various stab wounds, broken ankle, and acid. He has to wash the acid off with water from his water skein before he can heal it. My poor ear survives the mess just looking a little pink afterwards.

"Hey!" The fuck? "Did you say you were Grey Wardens?"

Who's saying that? I look around, and through an open door in the back there's bared prison cells of a sort. In one of them is a male dwarf with dark rolled hair and stubble. "You're Wardens, right? C-can you get me out of here? The name's Leske. I don't belong here, you see. Jarvia's been keeping me as a trophy."

My brow furrows as I'm followed by my companions. Odd. "And why's that?"

"My friend, Laszlo Brosca, got into a lot of trouble for 'dishonoring' the Provings. He just wore another man's armor and fought as him! We didn't want to get into any trouble! And they were going to behead him for being a brand when he won! I didn't have anything to do with it! I swear! I was only there to make sure everything went smoothly... Which it didn't. The Carta paid off the Guard to 'make an example' out of us, but the sodding Legion of the Dead recruited Laszlo before the transfer could be made. I wasn't so lucky. Said they only recruit people who 'know how to handle a blade'. I've been stuck in this cell ever since."

I blink at the dwarven man, and I'm sure I have a look of confusion on my face. That... was _a lot _of information. And quick. Did he even breathe? Who the Void is 'Laszlo Brosca' and this Legion of the Dead? Ugh. I pinch my nose and look at the man after taking a calming breath. "I'll give you the same choice I've been giving this whole lot – leave and flee to the surface, or die by my blade."

"Surface!" He nearly shouts. "I don't care if I fall into the sky! Just don't leave me in this cell!"


	13. (Apollo Wings) The Journalist

Author note: So this chapter will be slightly different from the others. I hope you likes. It has *practically* NO DIALOGUE though. How I managed that - fuck knows. It also encompasses the entirety of Caridin's Cross and Ortan Thaig.

Gah... I made a reference to things to make Thedas a little easier and modern than one would assume. I loved writing the parody of a real life thing!

* * *

**William Amell**

Having 'finished off' the Carta, we returned to Harrowmont's estate bone weary and in much need of baths. I'll never get rid of the blood though. I killed again today. For survival and not in vengeance for someone like Dharma - but it made it worse somehow. Thank whatever gods, be it the Maker, Andraste or the dwarven Ancestors that they revered that he was 'plumbed in' like some of the rooms in Tapsters - I'd need to scrub.

Thank the Maker also that Harrowmont'd taken the initiative to have my robes altered. Maybe I would be able to have more robes made while I'm here - the ingenuity of the design was both practical and really comfortable for the situations we seemed to find ourselves in. It augmented my mana and magic as well as providing better protection in close up situations. I still get a fair amount of being knocked about, but not so many injuries.

Now, all we had to do was wait for the preliminary vote in the the wake of the dissolution of the Carta in Harrowmont's name. The assorted deshyrs - lords and ladies - of the Assembly were making it in two days. Two more days to see if what we had done was enough, if even with deaths we would get the troops we'd need to save people in the face of the darkspawn.

I hope so. If not - Harrowmont and Bhelen both would be roasted and served on a spit.

* * *

I took my time in the Shaperate for the most part, reading on dwarven engineering and their most famous Paragons. I'm highly interested in the work of 'Paragon Rolex'. A man who designed and made a device he called a 'personal time keeper'. It was similar to a sundial in the fact it had a face with twelve hours painted on the front of it, from one to twelve bells. There were arrow shaped 'arms' reaching out from the center that pointed to the numbers. The larger one told the minutes - like twenty minutes past the hour, and the smaller one pointed to the hour - like nine bells in the morning. But it ran on being wound up every three days with a little grooved knob on the side, the static of the winding turning little metal cogs, creating a charge in it. I saw one - they 'ticked' very lightly. They also kept the time very well. Accurate to within ten minutes of the best sundials.

I've never wanted an object so much. It appeals to me in a very intrinsic sense, everything in it's way and unchanging.

I got to buy one yesterday - it cost 50 silver and is on a chain. It may not be 'mine' in a sense - but it's in my satchel. Hopefully it would mean we'd be able to keep track of the time better when underground because I'm sure we're moving out of sync with the natural pattern our bodies adhere to while on the surface. I could have hugged our scowling little leader when she said it was a good idea when I told her about it. Or maybe it'd be a bad idea to do that. Still...

I also met a kindred spirit in reading in the Shaperate - a dwarven lass called Orta. She is researching her family ancestry because she believes she comes from an ancient line 'Ortan' after which she was named. I wished her luck but when I tried to help her I found that most of the records since then have been lost.

Then we got the results of the preliminary votes. It wasn't good. It was only slightly swayed more toward Harrowmont. Not enough to give him the certainty of the throne for sure. It seemed all our work was for naught really. Bloody waste of time doing anything.

Harrowmont seems to believe that the only way he can lay claim to the throne proper is with the vote of a Paragon - who could both overthrow the Assembly and corral them to follow them. But that catch is - the only known living Paragon is in the Deep Roads. They've been down there for two years with their entire 'House' - a family of sorts but with everyone they choose to join them.

He wants us to find Paragon Branka, a woman formerly of the Smith Caste that perfected a way of improving the life in the forge with a smokeless fuel. No more blackened lungs from hours over the forge but she hated the darkspawn. She wanted to destroy them more than I would imagine some of the Grey Wardens. That's hatred on a large scale. It's insane, I don't know how someone would feasibly survive for two years in constant battle with the darkspawn. But that doesn't even matter to Harrowmont. Paragon Branka, if dead, if returned to Orzammar for a proper burial in 'The Stone' in Harrowmont's name - then it would be enough.

We need the dwarven troops. But this is mind-bogglingly insane for us. We're going to attempt it. We're going down to those Blighted tunnels and willingly putting ourselves in the way of danger. Maker preserve my sanity.

Our cart for the journey has been stocked with dried foods and water, medical supplies, lyrium, health poultices and potions abounding as well as things to set up camp. It's being pulled by a kossith creature known as a bronto - a thick hide with bony spines and tusks. It's rather docile and has been taught to only attack darkspawn if they come too close to it.

We've also been tasked by a sad woman, Widow Frida, to find out what happened to her son Ruck. He's been missing in the deep roads over a year. We said we'd look out for her but I doubt he still lives. I can't bring myself to tell her that though. None of us could.

* * *

**The Journal of William Amell**

**Deep Roads, Day One**

Today, we set off into the tunnels. Shiloh, Alistair, myself, Leliana, Morrigan and Ward - all in our new armor for the need of it. The darkness is all pervading, if not for the oil lanterns we have I would fear never seeing another thing my entire life. The deep roads are surprisingly devoid of any life apart from concentrated pockets of darkspawn and slimy creatures that look to be the twisted creation between a worm, a snake and a lizard. They're called deepstalkers and they spit acid. Not nice acid burns. It's a good thing we're wearing our armor or there would be much worse injuries from them.

We also gained another to this venture. The dwarf from Tapsters. Despite the fact Shiloh and Oghren had the debacle in the tavern, they've been rather close as team members. There was a 'smelly fucking dwarf' and 'frolicking knife-ear' moment before we first encountered a group of darkspawn. Then it was put behind them as they both charged into battle, carving bloody swathes into them with almost gleeful viciousness.

Need I mention that Oghren happens to be the husband of Paragon Branka and is the only person in Orzammar that both knows where she was heading, what for and who has a map to her last known position? She's after an ancient anvil to forge creatures known as 'golems'. Huge creatures of stone used traditionally to fight the darkspawn. The Anvil of the Void. The man who made it - Paragon Caridin - must have a morbid sense of humor. It sounds evil.

We've set up camp in an abandoned mine shaft, I used my skills at reforming stone to blockade us in safety but it doesn't halt the burning cold thrum of the darkspawn. Sleep is going be elusive.

**Deep Roads, Day Four**

We haven't been able to make a safe camp for longer than a few hours since my last entry in this journal. Today we found an old outpost for 'The Legion of the Dead' that has long since been abandoned. Have I mentioned that dwarves seem to have a horrible way of naming things?

The Legion of the Dead apparently are dwarves to dedicate their lives to fighting and dying against the darkspawn. Rather similar to us Grey Wardens bar the fact they don't have a Joining Ritual as we do. Oghren told us - they have a 'funeral'. They symbolically die before going into the deep roads and they never come back out except for recruitment of people. Like Laszlo Brosca - the dwarf that would have been imprisoned with that Leske dwarf in the Carta.

I swear I have never been so hungry in my life - it's like I haven't eaten in a week. Alistair told Shiloh and myself over the campfire tonight (tainted wooden beams smell horrid but it was warm) that it's part and parcel of being a Grey Warden. So horrible dreams and unrelenting hunger. The only good things I've seen so far from being a Grey Warden have been the improved potency of my magic and expanded pool of mana I have. Also being free. Good thing. Just have to remember that when I have an arrow in my wrist or a broken ankle.

**Deep Roads, Day Seven**

I will never complain about being in pain ever again. We were against so many darkspawn today when the lanterns went out. If it wasn't for the fact Morrigan was using fire and I lightning at the time we would have been bathed in the dark, using nothing but Warden senses to fight.

Injuries were high and after extensive healing and enough lyrium to addle a few mages I'm lucky enough to say we'll survive. So tired though. We might have to make camp for a while here.

**Deep Roads, Day Eight**

We finally reached Caridin's Cross today. Where Oghren has a map and Branka has apparently left cuttings in the Thaig walls. Not that it helped too much mind you, the structure had collapsed in many places and rather than expending mana to clear it we sought ways around the blockades. Rather good that - when we got back on track there were darkspawn hauled up behind where the first collapse was.

We've made a temporary camp here by the blockade with some reformed rubble to barricade the monsters out. Leliana wrenched her shoulder out when an Ogre picked her up and threw her against the thaig wall. It was Shiloh and Oghren that brought it down by hamstringing the beast with their massive weapons and Morrigan hexing the thing to be trapped in a nightmare. Alistair finished it off with a sword up the nasal cavity.

I was on genlock duty. For some reason this Ogre was surrounded by the Blighters - so chain lightning came in very useful in distracting and felling them.

We should be able to go in a few hours, we're trying to get a little sleep but the darkspawn seem to be getting closer so it may not be possible. If not for the fear of dying I might have thought I could sleep standing.

I'm so used to the smell of Taint and blood I'm disgusted in myself. The terribleness of it hardly causes recognition in my brain anymore.

**Deep Roads, Day Twelve**

So bloody tired. I don't think a single patch of my body has been unhealed in the last four days. Arrows, swords... fucking darkspawn mages. The only good thing about this is - I can now heal from a slight distance during battle. I managed to be five feet away with a healing aura already up to patch Morrigan up after she shapeshifted as as a tainted bear to fight when her wounds started healing. It was rather incredible. If I wasn't a healer - I don't know how we'd have survived so far.

**Deep Roads, Day Fifteen**

I'm surprised we haven't run out of lyrium and health poultices. Two Ogres. Oghren shattered his tibia and I had to heal him without the aura because of his natural resistance to magic. He didn't even register discomfort over it.

I found out that he's what is known as a berserker. Like Gregor. He also called Shiloh one and has started training her on how to properly harness all her rage in battle. Apparently if he keeps up the 'battle rage' afterwards he doesn't need to have an aura cast before healing. Rather useful information that. If I thought Shiloh was a scary lass before - I was proved wrong with the way she powered on in our next skirmishes.

We also ran out of water today. There was only so much we could carry. But without the means to get back without the water or carry on - an ingenious solution was created. Ice magic. Morrigan is an Elementalist so I don't have to attempt the spells. We left out water skeins open and allowed the witch to 'fill' them with ice periodically so they'd melt in sequence. It works rather well - cold water after a long fight is more refreshing than lyrium.

**Deep Roads, Day Twenty **

We've been holed up in a side pocket for two days. Alistair, Leliana and Shiloh all had such extensive injuries from the last group of darkspawn we encountered I feared losing one or two of them. There was so much blood. Morrigan had to act as a orderly for me, undoing armor with a skill for not further injuring patients that I was shocked at considering how she doesn't get on with any of them in the slightest. The healing was so bad I was required to heal through skin contact and I thought by the end of it my hands would have caught fire from channeling so much magic though them.

Yet the supply of lyrium is still good. How do we have so much?

The patients have been getting progressively better as the hours passed. There might be some scarring on Leliana's stomach from where she was near gutted and her hips crushed - but she'll live. But it should be light - I healed her first because of the state she was in. I was only shocked that I was one of the few still standing after that but Oghren charged himself as keeping me upright as I was bringing down part of the ceiling and needed my concentration for it. I don't know how long the fighting would have gone on if I hadn't or if we'd have survived.

Morrigan, Oghren, Ward and myself have been taking alternating watches, switching one person every two hours. I spent two hours with Ward then two with Oghren but I need to sleep. I can't keep on like this.

There still hasn't been any sight of Paragon Branka as of yet but her cuttings in the walls are still here. We can only assume she's further in.

**Deep Roads, Day Twenty-One**

We still haven't moved from out side pocket. I had a lesson in stitching from fixing Leliana's leathers with medical stitches. Butterfly stitches do not cut it. Shiloh was up and awake but not in much state to travel yet. She's been sewing.

Odd skill - but bloody useful. If I felt safe in the fact I could take off my robes I might ask if I could get a few holes mended but at the moment, while they're soaked through with blood and dirt, there isn't much point. None of us have changed our clothes since first coming down here. We're all in the same state. It's rather sickly but what can we do? The deep roads were not made for someone who cares too much for their appearance. Thinking about that - I need to shave. As does Alistair. We both look rather haggard from being down here without razors and scissors to groom as we usually do. Somehow his hair is still in the same style - I have no idea how he manages it because I swear by the end of this I'm going to have so many knots I might have to cut my hair.

We should be able to move by tomorrow though. According to Oghren's map - Caridin's Cross is only four times larger than Orzammar. It takes only an hour of walking to get from Dust Town to the Shaperate (if I calculate Dust Town to Harrowmont's estate and then the estate to the Shaperate), then again, when you factor in a battle pitched every hour at least - even smaller scouting parties of deepstalkers - and having to take side ways around cave-ins - it's no surprise it's taken us so long to have got this far from Orzammar to nearly through Caridin's Cross.

By the distance we've been traveling, I estimate we should reach the end of this thaig by day twenty-four. Then if Branka's cuttings in the walls go further - so will we have to too.

**Deep Roads, Day Twenty Two**

It's very odd... we haven't encountered a single living soul, be it deepstalker or darkspawn since we left our side pocket.

We had a problem with a cave-in at the exit to Caridin's Cross, but after finding a way around, we've left it. Oghren's map extends to the beginning of a place called Ortan Thaig and from the look of how we've met up with Branka's cuttings again, we're on the right track.

**Deep Roads, Day Thirty**

Yeah... we encountered darkspawn, from what I remember there was an Ogre and three darkspawn mages as well as the usual peppering of hurlocks, genlocks and shrieks. I remember getting picked up by the Ogre and feeling bones splintering under the pressure of it's massive fist. Then the pressure easing and getting thrown to the ground.

I woke up with a broken leg, fractured ribs and what has to be a record sleeping time for a Grey Warden. I've had a health potion (not poultice) drip fed to me while we've been holed up in a building. A building? I don't remember seeing any as of yet. Apparently we reached the outskirts of Ortan Thaig while I was unconscious.

The building itself is actually a Shaperate. We picked up the recorded births and deaths register here for the sweet dwarf Orta - I hope she gets what she wants from it. It made me rather happy to help her and I stowed the fragile parchment in our cart. It's a rather large cart it is - and thankfully we've kept the food supplies from getting darkspawn ichor all over them. Miracles do happen.

Besides waking up eight days since my last journal entry in a strange place, healing oneself when in this much pain? Difficult.

**Deep Roads, Day Thirty-One**

Today we were pushed back into a side room and restocked with so much lyrium I'm pretty sure we could scour the deep roads Morrigan and myself. We'd end up addled by the end of it, unlikely to remember much other than the burn of too much lyrium in our systems - but it would be a plan.

This was because there was a huge vein of the glowing mineral in the wall. We took scrapings and infused it with water over a fire to process it (the warriors took scrapings due to having the gloves to handle the dangerous substance).

So we could feasibly do it all. There was a way we could survive.

A shit plan. But one has to think of stupid things to occupy the mind while in these wrenched tunnels.

I don't know how it happened but the rips in my robes have been mended. That doesn't happen by magic - I should know. I only noticed today when a sword nearly sheered off my sleeve - because I was sure there was a rip there before and there wasn't.

**Deep Roads, Day Thirty-Three**

Spiders. Giant spiders. Giant poisonous spiders. Giant poisonous tainted spiders. And here I thought darkspawn dreams were terrible. Getting face to face with one of those monstrosities while pinned on your back and their giant fangs are ominously close to vital parts like a neck... never ever ever do I want that to happen to me again. Alistair saved me from spidery death by throwing all his weight into pushing the spider off me and bashing it's head in.

Squishy heads those spiders. But it was only pushing with whatever strength I possess with my staff outstretched and Alistair 'rescuing' me that I survived that. Death by spider after surviving an Ogre. Rather fitting for me.

Good news though - we sighted another living being. It ran off though so we're chasing it whenever it comes back into sight.

**Deep Roads, Day Thirty-Four **

We thought it might have been Branka and this whole ordeal could end. It wasn't, it was Ruck. Widow Frida's son. He'd survived the year down here but lack off food meant he hadn't been picky over where his next meal was from. He was tainted, insanity gripped his mind and we gave him a final mercy and returned him to the Maker - or Ancestors. Whatever the dwarves believe.

We've since caught sight of Branka's cuttings in the walls again. So we're still on track.

**Deep Roads, Day Thirty-Seven **

I feel like someone is watching me. I think it may be Shiloh because if I look over at her she's the only one making an attempt not to meet my gaze. Oghren, Alistair and Leliana aren't doing it. Ward - is just Ward. And Morrigan is... Morrigan.

I wonder why? She looks sad. I most probably look sad too. Lack of sleep, constantly wearing myself out in battle and chugging lyrium isn't my idea of fun. At least the non-mages of the group don't have to think about that. Don't have to think of limiting how much you can use your skills.

Being a mage means it's not as detrimental as a non-mage taking the stuff - like templars. But you can tell when too much has been taken. Your teeth ache and buzz, your limbs feel like they're floating slightly.

**Deep Roads, Day Forty-One**

We found Branka's journal today. She hasn't been here in Ortan Thaig for a year by my calculations on the day - I may be off by a few by now though. Her cuttings continue on though and she mentioned 'The Dead Trenches' - yet more proof the dwarves have a morbid sense of humor.

* * *

The Dead Trenches. Perfect name really considering the fact we came face to face with the Archdemon. Sodding thing flew off and out of range from even spells but I managed to get a good stone fist to hit it on the head. It wasn't even slightly dazed. Damned problem that is... just how are we going to fight a tainted dragon? Dragons fly... and this dragon has a veritable unending army. So even if we get close, it could just hop off and go away before we do any damage.

"Fucking Void! Get back here and fight me!" Shiloh crashed through the hurlock in her path and caved it's head in with the pommel of Holly. I think either she's getting stronger, her berserker training is making her forget muscle strain - or a mixture of both.

"Get in there girlie!" Oghren yelled, bifurcating a shriek easily. I summoned up the static - quite a bit of that from all the movement and inherent lyrium in the air and discharged it at the group of darkspawn, chain lightning brought down three of the hurlocks. I think I'm getting better the more we fight.

Morrigan cast a sleeping hex on them and it was like picking off insects for a minute. Alistair, Ward and Leliana were just running through, one foe downed after another. Leliana didn't prefer her dual daggers but had no choice, she'd run out of arrows a long time ago and there was only so much that could be salvaged and darkspawn ones that could be used.

Then we got unexpected help. There were war cries and a group of twenty dwarves in matching armor and leathers descended on our battle, hacking and slashing like veterans alongside us.

"Fire in the hole! Clear out!" A pair of leather clad dwarves, one male and the other female and both with dual daggers on their backs were atop an outcropping and had - glowing bombs of sorts. I can feel them. Lyrium.

"Move it or there'll be burns even I can't heal!" My companions and fellow Wardens seemed to understand it was a big deal and the twenty or so dwarves had already cleared out of the way.

The darkspawn didn't know what hit them. It was lyrium, but unlike any lyrium I'd ever seen. It imploded when it hit the floor, it crushed the darkspawn with a spray of blood that magic could never do - even a walking bomb or virulent walking bomb wouldn't be so powerful. They were utterly obliterated. And not a wound to heal! Oh yes! The size of that group - I was sure I'd have a bit to do.

We approached the unlikely group that had come to our aid... the Archdemon was long gone but not that horde it's left behind thanks to that weird lyrium bomb.

The obvious leader of the dwarves rounded up to Shiloh. "Well to be crazy enough to be all the way out here - you have to be either Grey Wardens or stupid beyond measure. I'll go for the former." Well that was rather good. We may be a caustic mixture of both.

"Shiloh Tabris. Commander of the Grey." Shiloh sheathed Holly on her back holster. "You are?"

"Kardol. Commander of The Legion of the Dead. Atrast vala." He nodded.

"Can I ask what that was? The lyrium bombs?" Kardol barked a laugh at me. "I mean - they're unlike anything I've ever seen."

"I can tell you about those." The female dwarf leaped from the outcrop and looked up at me. There's something slightly familiar about her face - the shade of her hair, light sand in pigtails. "So cloudhead. You gonna stare or tell me your name?"

"William Amell, Grey Warden lass - yourself?" I gave her a swift bow from the hip as the red-haired male dwarf followed her down from the outcrop. He doesn't have a beard... is he actually a dwarf?

"Dessa, formerly Aeducan. Now Legion of the Dead." She laughed before straightening up. "They're a joint invention, mine and Laszlo's both."

"Hey - quit hogging the limelight!" The male dwarf - a Casteless dwarf judging by the 'S' brand on his right cheek - nudged her in the side before pecking her lightly on the cheek. "Laszlo, formerly Brosca. Legion too."

"Stop it you - if you're interested in them - we have a base just a few minutes away Commander Tabris." Dessa Aeducan... the middle child of the late King. She was alive. I looked at my fellow Wardens and noted the looks of shock.

"If that is okay with you Commander Kardol?" Shiloh was a play in motion of a stoic commander at the moment. I am not.

"Come - you all need a clean up by the looks of it - we have strong doors." Kardol motioned for us all to follow with our cart and we did. I can't believe this - lyrium bombs, and the two dwarves of note we've heard of since being in Orzammar - Laszlo and Dessa.


	14. (Musicalrain) The Berserker

Author Note: Judy! Our ever loyal reviewer! Since we can't reply to your reviews – I will give you internet cookies for all the kind words. :D Okay... since all you reviewers are awesome – you all get internet cookies (but not as much as Judy)! Hehe. I'll stop being random. On to the chapter, yes?

Content Warnings: Mentions of abuse. :'(

(Note from Apollo Wings - I'll post up a one-shot which will be the journal entries that Shiloh reads later on in the story - it doesn't give away the big secret but it's extra reading. You don't HAVE to read it obviously - but it's interesting)

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

How did Ward get so exhausted? Sodding mabari. I wish I could just whine pitifully, droop my ears, and get my way. He's sleeping beside Alistair. I see how it is Ward. Alistair will let you use him for a pillow, and I won't, so now you're a traitor. And now I'm stuck on watch with the smelly fucking dwarf. Ugh. Sometimes I hate Ward.

We've been in the Deep Roads for... shit I don't know. Sometimes I ask William, but it just sodding sucks to hear how long. I think yesterday he said thirty-five days, so that makes today thirty-six? Holy flaming Maker's toenails! Over a month... And you want to know what sucks more than a month in the Deep Roads nearly dying every day on a wild goose chase after a dwarven Paragon? Being a _woman_ in the Deep Roads nearly dying every day on a wild goose chase after a dwarven Paragon. That's right, I can tell you know what I'm talking about. Moon's blood – a woman's monthly 'friend' in the Blighted Deep Roads. That's fun isn't it? Hey, lets toss cramps on top of near-death experiences! I hate nature.

So... with that in mind, you can tell just how smoothly my time on watch with Oghren is going, right? I'm going to kill the dwarf if he belches just _one _more time. I swear to the Maker. Let's close our eyes and take a deep calming breath. The dwarf has been useful – a good warrior that's saved our hides a few times and a half-decent teacher. I've noticed I've gradually become stronger, faster, and I'm learning just how to use my near ever present anger to obliterate my enemies. It's nice. But Oghren isn't an enemy. He's just sitting here being his usual disgusting self. Can't fault a guy for being gross when he's gross.

"Oghren," my eyes are still closed, but I can _hear _him. "Quit trying to scratch your cock through your armor."

"It itches – what do ya want me to do 'bout it then?"

Do I want to suggest having William look at it? No... I couldn't do that to the shem. He'd be scarred for life. Anyone would. Then again, he did take care of an awful lot of genital infections at Ostagar. Maybe... Sod it – I'll suggest it. "William knows how to treat genital infections. He treated them at Ostagar."

"What's a sodding 'genital'?"

I sigh. Eyes still closed. "Your cock."

He barks a laugh, "Stretch told ya 'bout looking at cocks then?" He laughs more. Don't make me hurt you. That laugh is grating. "He _fancies _them or somethin'?"

"He likes women." I _know _that. I've been all too aware of that lately – since the night he fell asleep in my bed. I've been thinking about what he said here and there ever sense. It can be a little... distracting. "And he didn't tell me. I saw a chart in his journal. There were more tallies than I cared to count."

"Don't believe you."

I open my eyes and look at the dwarf. Does he think I'm a flaming liar? I scowl, "I don't fucking lie."

He shakes his head, "I don't believe it girlie."

I get up quickly. He's just trying to piss me off, I know. But I'm _not _a liar. "Fine. I'll get his flaming journal and show you." He laughs as I turn to walk towards William's bedroll. "Smelly son of a..."

Now, I like to think of myself as having some amount of grace, but in heavy chain and plate armor I'm not the most quiet. Thank the Maker William exhausted himself more than Ward in that last battle, or he would've woken up minutes ago. Although, I guess it's not exactly _good _he's running himself so thin. We all are really. In the light of our small camp fire made of flammable scrap we gathered earlier, I can see he's curled up on his side with his arms wrapped around the edge of his blanket. His mouth is partially open and he's snoring softly. Poor guy looks a mess, but it's just what happens without a sodding _bath _in over a month. If you thought I didn't really like it much when I was covered in darkspawn goo when we first arrived in Orzammar, I _really _don't like it now. I'll need at least ten bars of honey soap to wash this all off. I crouch down next to his satchel laying beside him, and open it to remove the thick leather-bound book within. He told me something interesting about it back in Orzammar before we started this trip through the Blighted Deep Roads. He even convinced me to get my own journal.

We were in a sitting room at Harrowmont's estate, waiting like we had been doing for word from the dwarven Assembly. William was scribbling away in his journal, and I was entertaining myself with my cards playing a dwarven game 'patience' – I'm not very patient.

* * *

_I look over at him. I can feel my brow pull in confusion. How does he write so sodding much? "Does writing in your journal give you kicks or something?"_

_He looks up at me, quill still in hand and laughs softly before explaining, "I find it a place of refuge lass. A place where I'm myself as I can be in my mind without having to be awkward because I'm thinking about how other people view me."_

_I blink at him, cards forgotten. Huh? "Are you really that self-conscious?"_

_He looks back down at his journal as he twirls his quill between his fingers, "I tend to be... Ponderous Mages always are - we know we're different and because of that attempt to be more like other people."_

_"Ponderous Mages?" Oh. I'm asking just as many questions as he normally does. But what the sod is a 'Ponderous Mage'? And he's one of them?_

_He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Ah... I never told you. You know mages - well... obviously you do. When some of us are told not to be quiet and retreat into our minds. A crazed mage that only couldn't keep his mind occupied... we're given lessons like history and the such so we don't get all wound up because before being Harrowed there's only so much you're allowed to be taught. We can't go around disrespecting templar authority now."_

_So... He has an overactive mind, and that makes him 'Ponderous'? Let's see if I've got this right – he's not a 'normal' mage then? And his journal... helps him? "So you write in your journal to occupy your mind... that makes sense. Would you recommend it for... um... normal people if they're stuck in their thoughts?" I'm bored out of my bloody mind right now, if that helps, well..._

_He laughs again before answering with a small smile, "Oh. Aye, it's rather therapeutic. I think they're selling journals and such in the Commons market. But if you ever need to get thoughts off your mind - I'm always free to talk lass."_

_"I'll... keep that in mind."_

* * *

I did buy a journal like he recommend, but I haven't used it yet. I haven't been bored out of my mind in the Deep Roads, that's for sure. I bring William's journal with me as I return to my spot near Oghren – close but not close enough that I'm going to vomit from his stench. I stink too, but at least _try _to wash yourself dwarf!

I skim through the early pages backwards, looking on the left side of the journal, until I come across the chart. The chart happens to be on the back of the front page that only has a stamped symbol on it (is that the heraldry for the Circle of Magi?) – why didn't I notice that before? I hold it towards the dwarf pointing to the row with the 'genital infections' tally marks.

"See look – a crap load!"

The dwarf leans over and then shakes his head, "Humans must get it on more than a noble hunter with a deadline." He moves to stand, "I'm taking a piss."

I snort and wave him off. He just wants to scratch his cock, I know.

I look back down at the journal in my lap, and my eyes drift over to the right side and the journal entries there. I reread that first line, essentially the line that led me to my first ever experience of feeling pity for a shem. _"I asked them what my name is today and they just said that I'm getting better." _Something happened to him, and it wasn't a picnic. I frown. Should I... read the rest of that entry? I don't want to violate his trust, but... what the sod happened? That bothers me sometimes too. I end up thinking about it, and, well, I'm curious okay? Curse it all! I'm reading!

Oh... dear Maker I have to read the next entry too! That... this... I have the compulsion to hug the book and it's an inanimate object!

* * *

I end up reading fifteen entries in total before I have to stop. If Oghren thinks it wrong of me to be reading William's journal when he comes back to our spot for watch, he doesn't say anything. He was actually quiet, but he might have fallen asleep though. Good thing our watch was a quiet one, or we would've been screwed.

So... now here I am laying in my bedroll unable to sleep, after returning William's journal and rousing him for his shift on watch with the Orlesian. They're chatting, I can tell by their bowed heads, but the only thing I'm focused on is the side of William's face that I can see. He was older than I was when I started training as a warrior when he wrote those entries, but not old enough for what happened to him. And what _did _exactly happen to him? He was beaten, that much I gather, but it had to be flaming horrible if he can't even remember who the Void he _is _afterwards. And it happened twice – his loosing his memories. That... can't be good. Not at all. He-he was only _fourteen _and hurt twice. Hurt bad enough to loose all semblance of himself. And... he was so _scared_. Maker. The way he was going on, it-it made me think of Shianni. The way she looked when I held her. Helpless.

_"I remembered being in a really dark place, with shouting and this thudding. I felt my bones breaking." "I was crying and begging for them to stop but they were laughing too much to hear me." "She hugged me for that and told me it's not my fault." "I don't understand why I got beaten though." "I can't hide from the templars." "Maybe I deserve to be made Tranquil." "If I don't argue maybe I'll get just another beating." "I want to be me again."_

Oh sodding balls. This time of the month and reading that shit. I'm going to cry. I'm going to start bawling, and William's going to come over here to see what's the matter and then I'm going to have to confess to reading his journal. That... no. He can't know that I've read it. Not here. Not in the Deep Roads – in camp. Too many ears and eyes. Is it weird that I sort of want to run over to him and hug him and not let go? And yet at the same time I want to find who hurt him and gut them repeatedly with Holly. If anyone even _dares _to hurt him again, I _will _gut them with Holly. No one will ever hurt my m... mage, err, friend again. He's already almost died once down here (and that scarred me _so _bad), and now... this. I'm having too many confusing thoughts right now. I'm starting to get pissed. And I'm sad. Ugh.

* * *

I keep looking at William today, and I think he's noticing. I'm not being the most conspicuous, so of course he'd notice. I-I can't help it though. I don't know what to do. I... think I've betrayed his trust by reading his journal. And now I feel bad. Worse, because of what I read. This is shit. My thoughts and feelings are so muddled.

We make camp, and when I go through my pack looking for a scrap of cloth even partially clean to wipe of the sweat from today, I see the light pinkish-tan nug hide bound journal that I had bought for myself before this venture. I pull it out, setting it on my lap, and just looking at it. William told me writing in his journal helps him when he's lost in his thoughts... He also offered to talk to me if I needed to, but I can't. Not about this. Not now... Maybe I should try it. Why the sod not? I'm already in such a mess on top of being surrounded by a seemingly endless mass of darkspawn. A clear mind is needed in battle. If I'm raging _and _distracted like this, it could be the difference between life or death.

I do find a cloth (not very clean) and then search for quill and ink. And search, and search. It seems that I bought a journal and nothing to write in it with. I'm brilliant sometimes. Not.

William has ink... I'll ask to borrow his, and then I'll write and feel better and return it with a clearer mind. Maybe I could even talk to him? Not about what I read, but something... more mundane? It think that would help too.

I walk up to him, as he's busy laying out his bedroll, journal in hand. "William?" He looks up at me from his crouched position on the ground.

"What can I do for you lass? I mean, do you need something?"

I point at the journal in my arm, "I forgot to buy quill and ink, could I borrow yours?"

"Ah, finally taking up journal writing then?" He offers me a small smile, and pats a space on his bedroll beside him as he settles himself. "We can share the inkwell I have a few quills, just in case. I would offer you your own ink, but I'm afraid I'm down to my last one."

He pulls out his journal, ink and two quills. He seems happy, but I'm still sad. Troubled more like. I sit on the other side of the inkwell, and take up a quill, dipping it into the ink before opening my journal and writing. I decide to make a title page, as I don't think William has one, and I don't want them to get mixed up even though they're different colors. His is brown, and mine's... pink. _This is the journal of Shiloh Tabris – touch it and Holly will hurt you. _There. That brings a small smile to my face. Maybe I'll draw a little picture of Holly...

"Oh shit!" I curse aloud before moving my quill to my right hand. I just wrote left handed. Sod it all! Reading his journal messed me all up! Made me forget Mother's lessons.

"Umm... Shiloh?" I look towards William. I can tell he looks very confused behind his overgrown facial fluff. Human men and their facial hair... "Why did you do that? Curse and then put the quill in your right hand after writing with your left?"

I frown. "Mamae."

His brows crinkle together, "What do you mean lass?" He really doesn't understand, does he? Fine. He'll get a story.

* * *

_I bend to pick up the wooden practice sword that I had dropped after Mamae disarmed me, only to have her own wooden sword rap against my hand as soon as I touch the sword's hilt. I yelp and hold my hand protectively against my chest. It throbs from the hit._

_"Shiloh," my mother says sternly. She's losing her patience. I can tell. "What have I told you – don't use your left hand!"_

_I feel my shoulders sag. This lesson is proving difficult to learn. "I'll try to remember." I do. It seems I might not be able to though. Which is shit, because if I don't learn I'll never be a good warrior like Mamae. "It's just," I continue, "Why does it matter?" I really don't understand. She's only told me not to use my left, but... I've used it all my life until now. All my... thirteen years. Why can't I use a sword the same way I use a fork? Oh. That's probably a stupid question. Swords and forks aren't even close to being the same._

_I see Mamae's jaw tighten and her eyes narrow before she throws down the wooden sword and stomps over towards me. She's scary when she's angry. I'm sure the darkspawn are scared too. She takes my left hand from my chest, and opens up my palm by pulling back on my fingers. It hurts. I can't tell her that, or she'll just tell me to be strong. To ignore the pain. I try that too. Warriors have to be strong. Mamae is strong. "This," she points at my palm. "Is not the main hand of a good warrior. I should have never let you use it in the first place. But I didn't know Cyrion was letting you. All this time. It's despicable."_

_She picks up my wooden practice shortsword from the ground and closes my right hand around it. "Good warriors only use their right hand. Remember that Shiloh."_

* * *

I see William fighting to keep his face straight. Why? It was just training. All good warriors use their right hand. He finally says, "I see... there's not anything wrong with being different. It's our little quirks that mean we're special."

What the sod is that supposed to mean? I'm not a 'different' warrior – I'm a good warrior! "I'm _not _left-handed." Well, that distracted me from thinking about what I read in his journal. Dammit! I just thought about it. Ugh. I'm a mess... Moon's blood – go away, please?

* * *

I'm free of the problem causing my emotional crisis by the time we find that sodding Paragon's journal (does everyone keep one?), and find out she was headed to a place called 'The Dead Trenches'. It's a pleasant name – I wonder if the place will be just as pleasant?

Turns out it's just as wonderful as its name. Archdemon and endless swarm of darkspawn – I have things to kill with Holly. She loves killing darkspawn (I know she's not alive – but still!).

I draw Holly and charge a hurlock. It turns tail and tries to flee. Nuh-uh. Coward! "Fucking Void! Get back here and fight me!" I start to run faster and tackle it to the ground, turning Holly about in my grasp and completely bashing its head in. That was nice.

"Get in there girlie!" Ah. My teacher. It's strange to think of the dwarf as such. He calls me 'girlie' or 'frolicking knife-ear' – pet names for the teacher's favorite student. He's nice like that.

William summoned chain lightening killing three hurlocks, as the witch cast a sleeping hex on the whole bunch. Magic definitely has its uses. It was almost disappointingly easy to behead and gut the darkspawn asleep on their feet.

I'm cutting through the neck of a shriek with ease when a couple of dwarves run up beside me. I look around – there's more. Sodding fuck? They're in matching armor. A group of some sort then. Not going to question their timing. Thanks for the assist guys! I team up with a dwarf with dual daggers and distract a rather heavily armored hurlock, as he goes in to stab him between the ribs from behind.

As I'm removing Holly I hear someone shout, "Fire in the hole! Clear out!" What? All the other dwarves move away, and I look towards the voice to see two dwarves holding red glowing blown glass _things. _What are those?

I hear William's voice shout out, "Move it or there'll be burns even I can't heal!" An acid or explosives of some kind? Pirates are infamous for spreading tales of the Qunari's ship cannons – maybe something like that then? Well, that wouldn't be good to be in the way of, now would it? I scurry off towards William and the witch with Ward on my heels.

There's a red flash of light, and I have to close my eyes. When I open them there's gore covering everywhere – hunks of darkspawn and the black of their blood coating the rocks. That was sodding awesome! Ooh. I want!

My companions gather around me as I walk up to the group to come to our aid. We've not seen a single soul that wasn't tainted since being down here. It's nice to see people who aren't. Especially with that exploding shit.

A dwarf with heavy armor and a sword and shield on his back walked up to me, "Well to be crazy enough to be all the way out here - you have to be either Grey Wardens or stupid beyond measure. I'll go for the former."

I fight the urge to do something untoward – like roll my eyes. "Shiloh Tabris. Commander of the Grey." Yes, I'm so very much the Commander. One thing I've learned for certain since being down here. A leader is needed if we're to survive. I sheathed Holly and looked the rather tattooed dwarf in the eyes. "You are?"

"Kardol. Commander of The Legion of the Dead. Atrast vala." He bobs his head in a quick welcome. The Legion of the Dead – fellow darkspawn slayers.

I hear William's voice call from slightly behind me, "Can I ask what that was? The lyrium bombs?" 'Lyrium bombs' then? Huh. Sodding brilliant. I didn't know lyrium could explode. The Legion Commander laughed before William continued, "I mean - they're unlike anything I've ever seen."

One of the dwarves that had thrown the lyrium bombs hoped over towards us. She had sandy blonde hair in short pigtails. I think I know her, but can't place her face. Odd. "I can tell you about those." William stared dumbly at her for a moment, "So cloudhead. You gonna stare or tell me your name?"

He seemed to regain his composure quickly, and bowed as he introduced himself, "William Amell, Grey Warden lass – yourself?"

She bowed too with a big smile on her face. Obviously she finds these introductions amusing. "Dessa, formerly Aeducan. Now Legion of the Dead." The middle Aeducan child! So she didn't die. Good. I'm glad her father didn't _exactly _send her to her death. She laughs as she straightens, and points towards the other dwarf that had tossed the bombs at the darkspawn. "They're a joint invention, mine and Laszlo's both."

"Hey - quit hogging the limelight!" A red haired beardless dwarf stopped beside the blonde. His hair is shortly cropped, and... he is Casteless. Well good for him for not living in the shit they call Dust Town. Well... the Deep Roads may not be better actually. He nudged 'Dessa' in the side with his elbow, and kissed her on the cheek playfully. They're a couple then? Huh. "Laszlo, formerly Brosca. Legion too." His name sounds familiar too...

"Stop it you," Dessa said to Laszlo and looked towards me before continuing, "If you're interested in them - we have a base just a few minutes away Commander Tabris." Oh, I'm _very _interested in them, thank you.

I look towards Dessa's commander. Can't forget manners and protocol now – I want those bombs. "If that is okay with you Commander Kardol?"

He nodded and waved us over as he turned, "Come - you all need a clean up by the looks of it - we have strong doors." Oh, a bath? No... it's probably just clean cloths. Let's not get our hopes up now.

* * *

The Legion's base is fairly large – with huge arse doors fortified with runestones and the most curious geared locking mechanism, once a large bar is drawn across the doors. Kardol allows us to clean up some – wiping off today's grime really, and passes us dried meats to chew on as he gives us a quick tour of their base. Two dormitories of sorts, a 'dining hall' (looks like a re-purposed ball room or something), and armaments – everywhere. They're armed to the teeth. Apparently they get enough support from the dwarven nobles (being as useful against the darkspawn as they are) that they're not wanting for too much – other than sodding baths and perhaps brontos or a few other useful things.

We enter back to the main room near the large doors, and The Legion Commander turns towards me, "What brings your lot to the Deep Roads, Commander?"

"We're looking for the Paragon Branka," I state. "King Endrin has passed, and without a proper ruler, the treaty we have compelling dwarven aid in a Blight cannot be fulfilled. We need a Paragon to settle the dispute over the throne."

"Father's dead," the blonde haired dwarf whispers. Her lover puts an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "When?"

I offer her a small frown in sympathy. It seems she was close with her father, despite her circumstance. I don't know what I'd do if I was told all of a sudden that Adda was dead. "Not long after you were declared dead. We have put our lot in with Lord Harrowmont in his bid for the throne over your brother."

"Bhelen," she spits his name. "Good. That nug-humper doesn't deserve to rule."

The red-haired dwarf beside her laughs loudly and squeezes her tighter. "That's my girl."

I look back at the dwarven Commander. "Those lyrium bombs," I start. "They would save us a lot of trouble in this search if we knew how to make them for ourselves."

"We're not giving up our recipe Commander," Laszlo states. "It's our secret." He winks at Dessa.

The woman shakes her head, but it's the Commander that speaks up. "Though the relationship between the Legion and the Grey has been amiable, I'm afraid these two refuse to share their secrets."

I furrow my brow. Fine. I guess they're afraid of someone abusing the bombs' power? They're handy against the darkspawn though. "Then I request that Laszlo and Dessa come with us until we've found the Paragon. It's important that we have the dwarven troops to fight this Blight, and those bombs would help us."

The Commander seems to think for a moment, and then nods. "That would be acceptable Commander. The Legion knows better than most the destruction of the darkspawn."

* * *

We cross a rather large, long bridge (how is it still whole? Well, mostly) and enter a set of caverns – rooms carved out into the stone. There's gross... sacks of tainted flesh sticking to the walls and floor. We've seen that before, but... there's a lot of it around here.

"What are those things?" I ask Alistair. He's been here before – the Deep Roads. A few times he's woken up thinking he was with Duncan and the other Wardens that I'd not met, save Gregor the once. It's sad. Poor guy.

"The taint in its most base form," Alistair gulps. "The darkspawn secrete it." That's... absolutely putrid. I shouldn't have asked.

"All those not immune to the Taint," everyone but the Wardens and Ward. "Stay away from that crap." They don't have to be told twice.

I soft voice sounds out from further down the corridor, "_First day, they come and catch everyone."_

I stop in my tracks, "What the sod all is that?"

"I don't know," William says. "But it's coming from further in."

Further in is where we're going – everyone looks uneasy. Especially when we hear the feminine voice ego again, "_Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat." _A take a single step before we hear it again, "_Third day, the men are all gnawed on again."_

"Maker..." I hear the Orlesian whisper. What ever this voice is going on about, it doesn't sound pleasant. Darkspawn I gather. But... who's speaking?

We hear the entire chant the further we walk in. All the creeping sodding Void of it.

_"Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate." "Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn." "Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams." "Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew." "Eighth day, we hate it as she is violated." "Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin." "Now she does feast, as she's become the beast." "Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams."_

It turns out it's a dwarven woman speaking. She's fucking corrupted with the darkspawn taint – I can _feel _it. Just like I did with that dwarven man from days ago, Ruck. Whatever she's saying it's disturbing, and I can't even begin to imagine what the fuck she's going on about. And to be honest, I don't think I want to know. Really, I could probably live without the knowledge.

"Fucking Ancestors," I hear Oghren curse. "That's Hespith – Branka's captain."

The woman with greying eyes and ashen skin looks up at hearing her name, and the sodding Paragon's.

"Branka... She-she became obsessed, but more. By the Blessed Stone, only the Anvil was left in her."

"What happened?" I step towards her with my hand on Holly. "Where's Branka?"

"We-we tried to escape!" She looks up at me with round, panicked taint-stricken eyes. "They found us... and turned us. They kill the men. Their deaths merciful... but the women – they want! The women they touch... they fill them until the women are filled with them! They-they took Laryn – made her eat our friends. She ripped the face from her husband and drank his blood! She ate and she ate, and she grew. She swelled and stank – they made her in their image. Then she made more of them. She became... Broodmother..."

"Oh Maker preserve us," I hear the Orlesian pray again.

"Alistair," I look up at my fellow Warden. "What's this broodmother she speaks of?"

He gulps, "Women that the darkspawn take... and use to make more darkspawn." Oh. I think I'm going to be sick. That's... what I thought Hespith was talking about. But... that's-that's... shit.

I swallow past the bile rising in my throat. "What about the Paragon? Branka?"

The tainted woman tilts her head at me, "I was her captain, and I did not stop her. Her lover. Forgive her... no. She cannot be forgiven. Not for what she has done. Not for which she has become."

"Her lover?" Oghren asks bemusedly. "Branka liked to diddle other women?" The dwarf's words break through my nausea, and I almost laugh at his word choice. Almost.

"Branka... my love..." The tainted woman sways on her feet. "The Stone has punished me... I-I am dying of something worse than death itself – betrayal." She suddenly turns heel and runs before anyone can move to stop her.

"Alistair," I look towards my friend once the woman has left. "Have you ever seen a broodmother?"

He shakes his head, "No, but Duncan said they were horrible creatures. Ghouls, but worse."

I think back to Mamae's stories. I don't think she ever mentioned something that birthed darkspawn. Again, I'm going to be sick. "My Mother never spoke of something like that... shit."

"Your Mother?" Alistair questions, "She was a Warden?" Oh. Never told him about Mamae. Huh.

"No," I shake my head once. "She never went through the Joining, but Duncan took her on missions if he needed her."

"I never met an elven woman that assisted the Wardens."

"You wouldn't have," I snap. Calm down Shiloh. Just a little edgy from the creepy dwarven woman. "Mamae died years ago."

* * *

We continue through the corridor with no sign of Hespith, and end up exiting the carved caverns to see – two _big _fucking ogres! Shit!

"Laszlo, Dessa – protect the mages! Ward, Leliana – flank! Alistair, Oghren take the left – I've got the right! Move people!" Everyone quickly takes to their duties, and readies themselves for battle.

"Get over here you big motherfucker!" I yell at the rightmost ogre, Holly drawn, and in a full charge. It _laughs. _Why the sodding fuck is a darkspawn _laughing_? I grit my teeth together and allow my rage to boil in my veins, just as Oghren taught me. It blinds me – red seeping into my vision, heart beating quickly, hands clenching on Holly in tight spasms. It picks up a chuck of a fallen pillar near it and hurls it directly at me – the stone projectile disintegrates into dust before it even gets close – thank you William! I owe that shem a pint. Or twenty – he's saved my hide a few times down here.

Can't get distracted now. I stash Holly upwards at its knee, cutting deep but not crippling it and roll to the side, careful to keep Holly from impaling me, as I avoid one of its meaty hands as it grasps at me. I stand to see one of its sides get chunks of stone adhered to it in large patches – helping to slow its movements and halt any further attacks. I return to the gash I've already cut, and bring my arms back as far as I can, twisting my hips to further aid my momentum as I force Holly directly into the side of the cut – and meet bone. The ogre howls in pain and takes a knee – wildly thrusting its fucking arms forwards in an effort to hit me. I jump back in an attempt to avoid said hit, but I don't get far enough. It sodding hits me, and I fall to my back and skitter a little distance away with the force of it.

I huff as I move to stand. I hate ogres! Die you fucker! My rage is positively _burning _in my veins. I hold Holly high and charge yet again. I vaguely recognize Ward... and a dwarf (is that Laszlo?) attacking the injured ogre in my stead as I run to my enemy. The ogre's hand reaches towards me, and I change my grip on Holly to cut downwards between its fingers. The huge darkspawn roars – its hand split between its last two fingers. Distracted by my slash at its hand, the ogre has ignored the red-haired dwarf as he had climbed up the side of the kneeling darkspawn – until he forced his two long-daggers into one of its eyes. The ogre tries to grab the dwarf with his severely injured hand, but fails. I take the opportunity to run in close, slashing upwards to hilt Holly into the soft underside of its chin – piercing through bone and ending its sodding life. The ogre falls to the side, and we all jump away to avoid getting crushed by its weight.

I turn to see the other ogre with its hands clawing bloody lines at its face screaming as it convulses with the effects of one of William's lightning spells and a nightmare caused by the witch. Oghren takes the initiative to cut into its large neck, causing its life's blood to spill in a heavy curtain to the Deep Road's floor. Well. This battle is over. But there will be more. There's always sodding more of these fuckers down here.

I see William run towards the prone form of the Orlesian. Shit. She's not moving. I run over too, blood still humming in adrenaline-infused rage, to check on my fellow. I may not like the Orlesian, because she's Orlesian, I'll not readily see someone die on my watch. I see William pop open one of the smaller lyrium vials Dessa handed over from a quick jaunt to our bronto-pulled cart and chug it's contents in two large gulps. He places his hands on Leliana's forehead, and I see his eyes lose their focus as he forces his magic into her body to mend what's broken. Have I ever mentioned how useful magic is? What the sod is the deal with locking mages up? You know how many people could be saved from death if mages were allowed to come out of their sodding Circles? Lots! More than I could imagine – that's for sure. I'll never get that. I'm not the most religious though, but still.

The Orlesian's eyes fly open and she mutters something in her native language that I can't make sense of, before sitting up and offering William a small smile.

"Thank you William," she breathes. Now how come when William smiles back it bothers me a little? Okay... Not a little. I kinda want to punch the smiles off of both of them. The fuck is wrong with me? I must still be raging.

William stands up, "Anyone else need healing?" Shit. Probably like all of us.

* * *

Once the healing is done (I was right about all of us – even Ward), we walk up to these large metal doors built into an adjacent rock-face.

"Morrigan," I call over to the witch (also the only one with flame at her disposal). "Can you melt through the lock?"

She rolls her eyes and saunters up, "Yes, of course. Tis only metal – not even runestone protection employed."

The lock melts into a large gaping hole once the witch focuses her flame at the metal, and the doors swing backwards on their hinges. As soon as the doors move, we're assaulted by the utterly disgusting smell of taint, rotten flesh, stagnant water, and rancid blood.

"Right," I start, trying not to crinkle my nose at the stench. "I'd say based on this smell, what ever the flames is down there isn't friendly." I look back at the cart quickly. "Let's leave the bronto here as we scout ahead. Ward," I look down at my mabari and pat his head a few times. "Watch the cart, okay boy?" He barks once in acknowledgement, and I allow myself a smirk and give him a quick rub under his chin.

We go forward, my hand on Holly's hilt – to see what I can only guess is a fucking broodmother!

"Holy Andraste's smelly shit! Is that a fucking broodmother?!"

"Well," I hear William's voice say harshly from beside me, "based on the multiple teats and what I assume are darkspawn young scurrying away – aye, that's a broodmother."

"That's Laryn," Oghren says. "Hespith sodding said the darkspawn turned 'er."

"Ancestors," I hear Dessa say. "What should we do Commander?"

I grind my teeth together before replying, the broodmother, unable to move as it looks like she's fused to the rock behind her, screams at us as we stand towards the cavern's edge.

I draw Holly, "We kill her." I pause to look over my shoulder at the rest of our group, "Dessa and Laszlo – use your lyrium bombs. Leliana protect the mages. The rest – on the front lines." I charge into the fray – cutting bloody swathes through... are those flaming tentacles? They're coming out of the ground whatever the fuck they are.

The broodmother screams ear piercingly (I can't refer to her as Laryn – she's not the dwarf she was anymore. The darkspawn have changed her) and darkspawn come to her aid. Some are small, impish looking – they're not yet fully developed. This is some sodding shit. My hands clench near painfully on Holly as I behead one of the smaller fuckers, my blood racing and my jaw tightening in my anger. This is... the worst we've yet seen. This bitch needs to die. The darkspawn can't be allowed to sodding _breed_. We can't let her live like this – a fucking darkspawn making tool.

The broodmother screams yet again, as I notice Oghren cutting clean through one of the bigger tentacles. Larger darkspawn come this time, and I hear Laszlo's voice call out, "Clear the field! Bombs 'a coming!"

I rush backward, cutting down a hurlock with an upward slash through its gut and poorly-made armor, and watch as two bright red bombs strike near a concentrated mass of darkspawn obliterating them on contact. Some of the broodmother's tentacles are burnt in the process, along with one of her arms and lower body.

An idea assaults me, and I call out to the witch, "See if a hex will work on that bitch!"

It works – the broodmother screams terribly as she swipes at her face with her burnt and un-burnt hands. I see Alistair dash towards her as she's lost in a waking nightmare. A hurlock alpha charges onto the field, a large gleaming axe held firmly in its grasp, and I call out to the dwarves, "Laszlo. Dessa. One of you help me take down the big hurlock!"

Dessa runs beside me, I catch a quick glance at her sandy hair, and tap further into my reservoirs of rage – allowing my entire body to burn in its adrenaline-powered strength. Oghren told me to focus on an event – one that will 'piss ya off 'til no end'. I picture Shianni curled in a tight ball – bare, vulnerable, and hurt. It works – my rage feels intense, like a stampeding bronto charging through my veins with each beat of my heart. I scream incoherently as I thrust Holly into the main arm of the hurlock alpha, completely ignoring the darkspawn's own axe. It hits home into my shoulder, but I can't feel it. The pain is numb. The wound inconsequential. I see Dessa's daggers come up and backstab the arsehole, as I carelessly withdraw Holly from its arm – only to thrust her back into the same arm hard enough to cut completely through its armor and sever it. The beast falls to the ground in agony, and Dessa ends it with a dagger to the throat.

My head is pounding, and I feel hot – nearly too hot. My eyes quickly scan for another opponent, and my gaze falls onto one of the broodmother's tentacles. I bring Holly far back, as I run yelling, "flaming bitch," and I cut through the tentacle with one effortless sweep of my trusty greatsword.

I look around again, and my red-tinged gaze falls onto the broodmother herself – burnt, and bloody from Alistair's sword (where is the shem?). I hold Holly out perpendicular with my middle as I charge. I near the monstrous creation and thrust Holly in a horizontal arc, severing through her many teats and layers of bloated, tainted tissue. She screams out in terrible pain, and brings one of her tentacles to hit me hard in the back. I stumble forward, Holly not in a position I can use my stumble to any advantage, and quickly spin to cut the tip off the troublesome thing.

One of the broodmother's smaller tentacles near her base snakes around my leg as I cut through the larger, and pulls on me backwards to cause me to fall forwards – my face smacking into the tainted stone with a snap. I bear my teeth in untempered anger, and roll as I grab a hold of my belt-knife. I quickly sit up and cut through the smaller tentacle, and as I'm moving to stand and sheathe my knife I see a large bolder crash into the broodmother's head.

She wails and flails her arms about in her disorientation and pain from the hit, and I jump forward swinging Holly upwards cutting through the bones of her chest. I withdraw my sword, and in that moment she sizzles and spasms from a powerful lightning spell from William. Her body slumps forward, peeling some from the rock-face with her weight and bleeding from the tear. I ensure her end by cutting through her sodding neck.

I run back away from the dead beast, quickly ending the few darkspawn in my sight as I still burn from my rage. I finally stop and stand stock still when there are no enemies left to rage on. I'm standing near the edge of the cavern close to where we entered, staring blankly at the rock in front of me as I automatically sheathe Holly at my back. There are voices, but I can't understand them. I barely notice when my wounds fuse and correct themselves from William's healing magic too. That broodmother was a woman. A dwarven woman made to birth sodding darkspawn!

I see something pass through my vision, and I jolt when I look down to see the bloodied body of Hespith laying on the stone floor twisted at odd angles.

I step back and hear the Orlesian yell out, "She just killed herself!" She was tainted anyway, but... she didn't want to become that-that thing. Death was a better option to her than that fate. Death would be far better than becoming that darkspawn birthing bitch. I continue to step backward until Holly's scabbard meets a stone wall. Why... why can't I look away?

I hear William's voice through the hum in my ears not too far away from where I stand. "Someone should see if she's okay."

I hear Alistair's distinctive groan, "I'm... not good with women."

"Heh. I'm not that crazy," I hear the gritty voice of Oghren say.

"Fine. Looks like it's up to me." William again with his accent.

Something passes through my vision again, and his time it's the filthy robes of William. I look up into his worried face, "Shiloh? Lass, are you okay?"

No... I'm not. "If that ever happens to me," I say in a raw voice. "Kill me."

He blinks and tentatively asks, "I'm-I'm sorry?"

My teeth grind together, "If I ever turn into that thing!" I point towards where I know the broodmother's corpse to be. Where the disfigured body of Laryn is. "Swear to me you'll kill me!" I would rather die than be that. I would rather sodding die.

William looks startled. His eyes are round with concern, and a frown pulls at the corners of his lips beneath his overgrown beard. "Okay..." He says softly. "I... swear."

I feel the tension immediately leave my body. My rage dissipates. I needed to hear that. I needed someone to promise. "Thank you." I lunge forward suddenly and squeeze the mage to me. I lay my head against his chest with my arms wrapped securely around his middle. I'm in serious need of a hug right now. Fighting that broodmother was a shock to the system. I _never _want to sodding be that. No thank you.

I feel William cautiously place his arms around my shoulders, "Umm... lass?"

"Sush," I interrupt to stop him from talking and clasp him tighter to me. "I need a hug right now." I feel his body relax and he holds me a little tighter. I don't want to sodding let go. I don't. It's pathetic, but I need this – this contact. I needed someone to promise, and I need someone to hug. I'm a hugger, remember?


	15. (Apollo Wings) The Void

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* * *

**William Amell  
**

I clasped tighter to Shiloh. That woman, that dwarf - she was made into a broodmother. She used to have a name, Laryn before... before she became that disgusting bloated creature and forced to birth the darkspawn. I knew it in my heart that I never wanted to see another in my entire life, never wanted to see anyone become that again.

It hit home that I'm a Grey Warden, it's my job to defend the people of Thedas against the horrors I will face daily. I wouldn't ever let another become one of these nightmares, even if it meant their death.

I never felt so awkward and right just standing covered in gore by the corpse of the broodmother, Shiloh resting her armored head against my chest. I pulled out of the embrace reluctantly. It's not healthy to be so close when covered in this ichor - also we both stink something chronic. Everything about the deep roads stinks but sweat, blood and dirt isn't a particularly pleasant thing. One thing I will say, as soon as we get back to Orzammar, I'm having a bath - maybe two or three and introducing a razor blade to my beard... I'm keeping my usual goatee - but not this horrid stuff.

"Come on - we need to keep moving before more darkspawn come." I stared at her, I'd never seen her look so vulnerable and it was as much a shock to the system as the lack of mana I had after that horrendous fight.

"I know." Shiloh looked over at our two new companions - Dessa and Laszlo.

They were both on their knees, Dessa clinging to her partner as if for dear life. "Never let me become that... don't ever let me be one." She kept on repeating it like a mantra.

"Shhh... I won't let anyone hurt you. Not as long as this duster is still breathing." He stroked her little pigtails, smearing blackened blood in the sandy tresses. I felt my heart warm at their small gestures to each other, the princess of Orzammar and a Casteless dwarf, bonded over a falling from grace and darkspawn. I might have mentioned it before but I'm a fool romantic.

"Don't call yourself that. You're as much a dwarf as I am." I glanced over at Shiloh.

"She'd be a better Queen than Harrowmont or Bhelen." I whispered toward her. Our leader nodded. But it was true, this was the only dwarf we'd seen so far that would be viable to take the throne and kept the same interests as us toward the Casteless. Would Orzammar accept her though? Nerav Helmi has alluded that Dessa was the favored child of the late King. So quite probably.

"I think so too. Besides, they'd be Kings - they could be fantastic drag queens though." She whispered back, her expression and face not betraying her words at all. How can she keep such a straight face while joking? She was joking right? The edge of her mouth curled up slightly. Ah - not so straight faced after all are you lass?

"Grey Wardens; unless you wish the darkspawn swallow us whole, we best keep onwards." Morrigan was standing impatiently and scowling at Oghren. What is it with all the scowling? Did someone piss in the food supply to leave a nasty taste in everyone's mouths?

"Real nice." Alistair groaned. "We fight a broodmother and you talk of cannibalism."

"T'would not be cannibalism lest you thought you were a darkspawn yourself. I might say the similarities are uncanny, namely the smell and stupidity."

"Would you two give it a rest?" Shiloh took command again, her stoic 'commander' mask falling into place. "The cuttings in the thaig walls lead in that direction... we move on. Dessa, Laszlo... up."

The two dwarves stood, adjusting their Legion leathers to the right places before Laszlo pecked her on the cheek and grabbed her hand, squeezing ever so slightly. "We'll get through this - just think of the Anvil of the Void and the golems against these Blighters."

"Hopefully it'll be worth it." Dessa smiled sadly at him and closed her eyes a moment. "It'll all be worth it against these disgusting things."

I found myself disagreeing. How could this Anvil be worth turning Laryn into a broodmother? Hespith's insanity and probable turning herself if not for her suicide? The deaths of so many people? If Branka is alive I feel like asking Morrigan to flambe the woman.

* * *

Branka is alive.

Branka - has sealed us in the thaig and all I feel is the burning cold thrum of the darkspawn. Our cart and bronto have been sealed behind us and I only have four potent vials of lyrium in my satchel, two health poultices and a health potion. We're going to fucking well die.

"Well shave my back and call me an elf! Branka - you're alive!" Oghren looked as if every worry for a moment was gone as he stared up at Branka. I don't know if I'd have the same approach to seeing my estranged wife after just finding out she actually preferred the company of her own gender. Just a small thing that - but fool romantic I am... it was endearing to hear him sound happy after the misery of the last - however long we've been in the deep roads now.

"Oh - it's _you_." Now how was that for disappointment and disgust in one word. 'You' - Oghren happens to have saved our lives quite a few times down here you snippy 'dead' dwarf.

"Let us out of here you crazy fucking dwarf!" Shiloh was attempting to climb the rock and metal fortress of sorts with Holly unsheathed to get at the Paragon.

"Branka - we need you to return to Orzammar. The Throne is empty and-" I was cut off by her barking laughter as it filled the cavern. So much for diplomacy! Where is Morrigan? Let's test out dwarven magic resistance shall we? I don't think she'll have any objections.

"So those nugs have offed each other. They need me to decide the throne for them? It's a pity I don't care who you put on the golden chair - a drunken monkey could do better than those dribbling imbeciles!" Ouch - we knew they were rather slim pickings in the kingly department but I suddenly feel as if we should have just thrown Harrowmont and Bhelen into the Proving Arena and let them fight to the death rather than going all this way and nearly killing and addling ourselves. We could be marching on the darkspawn with our armies of Dalish, mages, dwarves and the Redcliffe soldiers... I don't know how long we've been here, but we could be doing something about the Blight! Not that we aren't - dwarven troops are needed. Still.

"Get down here and fight me!" Shiloh jumped off the wall of the fortress. I hate to say it but her anger sometimes gets in the way of diplomacy - not that I don't want to kill Branka at the moment.

"Paragon Branka - as the oldest living Aeducan I ask that you release us from the thaig so that we may return with word of your survival to the Assembly. If you don't care who we put on the throne then I shall place it on my honor that your sided with us!" Dessa apparently had a real way with words because Branka stopped a moment and looked thoughtful.

"I'll tell you what - eldest Aeducan. I know where the Anvil of the Void is. Caridin placed traps all the way there. If you could disable them for me so I can get to it - I'll gladly let you all free. The only way out for you now is forward." Sodding... is there a way to get past the blockade she placed? It looks like a horrid amalgam of metal and stone. I can't make it dust and we can't melt it. Bollocks.

Shiloh took a deep breath. "Point us the way."

* * *

The first trap was seemingly endless darkspawn. Now I know Caridin - no matter how much a Paragon and all that revered stuff the dwarves talk about - he would be unable to control darkspawn to keep this Anvil of the Void elusive.

Shiloh was using every bit of berserker training she had with Oghren at the front lines, blood and metal clashing and slicking on the rocky ground in their wake.

Dessa and Laszlo almost danced with the way their twin blades were twirling - working at Shiloh's command to 'protect the mages' while Morrigan and I concentrated on our spells.

Leliana, Ward and Alistair had grouped up and were flanking the darkspawn alongside Shiloh and Oghren. We all work very well as a team, seamlessly moving into our roles in battle.

Fire started raining down on the horde of darkspawn and Morrigan was gritting her teeth next to me, keeping her concentration on the inferno. I grasped for the rock in the ceiling - yelling over the din of swords meeting darkspawn. "One ceiling coming down!" The warriors and rogues kept on fighting as the walked backwards to my position and I pulled the stone down on the hideous beasts.

Galvanism in the deep roads is as such a useful tool... but I'm losing mana quickly. The hurlock slipped past our dual dwarven protection team and Morrigan and I both reacted on instinct - a waking nightmare and lightning working in tandem to kill the Blighter before it had the chance to attack. Now... lyrium. Need mana.

I flipped my satchel open and glugged half the vial, passing it over to Morrigan afterwards - she'd need some too. I'm not cruel enough to think I'm the only person who needs the stuff in battle.

And thank fuck I'd just filled up a little mana - well... it's potent - a lot of mana. Ogre. The rock didn't land on a bloody ogre. Luck hates me.

Shiloh took off at the ogre, screaming a battlecry at the top of her lungs (a stream of curses) and make a giant leap at it, slashing down it's thick leg with Holly. Oghren chased after her and made a similar sweeping blow upwards at a knee - keeping the kossith tainted beast from being able to stomp on them.

The ogre grabbed hold of our scowling, screaming leader with a massive hand and brought her up to his face - as if he couldn't see her. Alistair was where Shiloh had made the slash on it's leg and was battering his shield on the ogre, his sword renting in wild sideways motions to open the wound up and cripple the beast.

I gathered up all the static in the room - forgive me Shiloh - and brought it coalescing into the beast. It roared and threw Shiloh straight at me, his aim was off and she landed with a wet snap on the stone. This ogre is going down.

"Morrigan - hex that fucker!" Morrigan seemed to understand and the ogre brought two meaty hands to it's face, cowed by the onslaught of nightmares. Dessa and Laszlo were again working as a team - the red and sandy-haired dwarves climbing up the ogre with their daggers as picks, twisting viciously into the flesh as they staked higher up.

I watched in rapt horror as Dessa clasped the top of the ogre's head and shoved a dagger through it's hands, Laszlo gripped around it's neck and forced his two daggers into it's eye sockets. I was rushing to Shiloh, a healing aura already up and ready... she's got a heartbeat. I pulled off her helmet and placed a hand atop her head, broken hip, fractured legs... shit.

I dropped the aura - forgive me again Shiloh - and started healing, mending bones and suturing up ruptured blood vessels. She's going to be sore. With a gasp she was up again and stared right at me. "Lightning hurts."

I laughed. I know I shouldn't have - but I did. "Stay still - your legs are still fractured." But obviously Shiloh was very much alive and my burst of healing had been enough to rouse her out of the unconsciousness. I looked up to see three dwarves just staring at us. "What? Any more healing needed?"

"Oh we're fine - Dessa and I jumped off that 'fucker' while is was falling. Maybe muscle strain." Laszlo rolled his eyes. What in the Void was that for?

"I could so with some." Alistair was on the floor by the ogre, his ankle trapped beneath the bulk of it.

"Everyone get over there and get that ogre off him." Shiloh easily commanded. The more we're in these life and death situations - the more I believe we're getting on. Oghren, Dessa, Laszlo and Leliana were all hefting the ogre off our fellow Warden and Alistair pulled himself out from under before they unceremoniously dropped the corpse back down. Ward was whining at Shiloh's side and she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his matted fur. "I'm sorry for scaring you baby." Ah, she's in the mood for hugs and knows Ward will freely give them even if he's tuckered out. I think she notices how awkward I am when she hugs me. She hugs Alistair too - when the mood seems to take her. Normally when he wakes up in a foul mood because he thought he was in a camp with Duncan during his first deep roads excursion.

Alistair stood up and slammed his foot down to the ground. "Well that doesn't feel better but I can move it again." He was looking expectantly at me... what am I the sodding healer?

"All healed up lass - I'll heal Alistair but I think we should start moving soon. The darkspawn will come back." I got off my knees with a popping of joints and ambled over to him with a healing aura up. Have to use one on him because he's not a berserker. "Dislocated ankle... and you fixed it yourself." I gave him a few numbing tendrils. "Let's get moving shall we?"

* * *

I do not like golems. Now you'd think someone would have told me a golem is a giant of stone no? No... of course might have actually - but all this time in the deep roads melds into one long day and I can't remember if they did. Dessa and Laszlo stood in shock at seeing the three stone behemoths in the room. When the doors closed and gas started seeping in. Green gas... it's making me choke. Shit - there's bones here. This gas is poison!

"We're trapped... I'm trapped again." Dessa looked pale with fright and Laszlo shushed her gently, stroking the side of her face to calm his lover.

"Figure out how to... fuck... shut off this gas!" Shiloh started hacking up but was walking into the gas, looking around for some sort of... "Two levers - either side of the room. Move!"

Dessa and Laszlo - being the quickest out of all us bar Leliana picked quickly and went to the levers. "It's gonna need a fair bit of elbow grease!" Laszlo chuckled, coughing a little.

Then the golems started moving... and Leliana was dashed to the ground, her left arm hanging at an odd angle. "At arms!" Shiloh grabbed hold of Holly and Started up toward the golem... only to be pushed back when she hit it as hard as possible, sparks flying from the contact...

I can do this. This is something I can do. "Keep them occupied. I can turn them to dust!" Shiloh nodded.

"Oghren - middle one. Alistair take left. Ward - protect William." Great - I'm in the care of the dog. "Morrigan, see if hexing works. Move!"

I sought out the stone of the leftmost golem - Oghren and Shiloh are fairly resistant to pain being berserkers and I have to think of this logically. I felt the stone and started to make it crumble... Hmmm, that feels odd. The left golem fell to dust as it's fist nearly connected with Alistair's stomach. And a casing of sorts fell to the ground.

I don't have time to think though. Alistair moved to help Oghren in the middle with keeping the golem at bay so I switched to the golem on the right.

Three golems down... three casings. The gas shut off by our two lovebird dwarves. Much happiness. No mana... I gulped back half of my second vial of lyrium and stoppered it back up before going to Leliana and had to... push her shoulder back into the socket as I used a healing aura to counteract pain. I gave her a capful of the health potion I had on me. I can't waste mana - I have a very limited lyrium supply.

"What in the Void are these?" Shiloh kicked one of the casings and it split open... blue sludge pouring out.

"Well that smells worse than making the lyrium bombs." Dessa was wafting a hand at the split casting.

"It does stink like lyrium... cloudhead - does it do the resonating thing too?" Laszlo got out a small bomb from his pocket and looked as if weighing the feeling of both of the substances.

"It does." I edged closer to the blue sludge. "But it has blood in it. Dwarven blood if I can still feel the magical resistance."

"Golems have dwarven blood and lyrium inside?" Shiloh's eyebrows rose together. "How?"

"The torso of a golem looks like a dwarf could fit inside." Morrigan drawled. "I suggest we place the foul smelling one in a golem to check."

"Well Stretch? Can I axe the witch a question?" Oghren had taken to calling me 'Stretch' - because I look stretched. Great nickname. Why can't I get a good nickname?

"Axe her a question - I dare you." Alistair smirked.

"Come no further - I shall sorely test the bonds of dwarven resistance to magic if you get one step closer." Morrigan even had her staff out, a fireball threateningly ready.

"No killing allies. Maker's fucking blood!" Shiloh groaned.

"Fine... no axing questions." Oghren grumbled. If it wasn't for the fact he was deadly serious about 'axing' the daughter of Flemeth - a mage who could easily overcome his magical resistance I might have let him with how bitchy she was. Then again - I don't know - I don't like the thought of being the only magical back-up with two berserkers charging into battle without cares for wounds.

The door at the end of the room opened. Forward still. I sipped a half of what was left of my second lyrium vial. Two and a quarter left. I hope the next part of this is actually getting to the Anvil of the Void.

* * *

We found ourselves in a room dominated by a massive four-faced statue that was hanging from the ceiling like a stalactite. I know my rocks! It was almost weeping blood, watching over four nondescript anvils. "Have we found The Anvil of the Void?" I heard Alistair ask. It's my job to ask inane questions - not yours!

"If we have - the Veil is thin here." I answered.

"Indeed. I would advise caution here Grey Wardens." - Was that a warning from Morrigan that didn't sound like a sneer? Miracles happen.

"What the sod is the Veil?" Oghren grunted. I opened my mouth to answer but was cut off by the image of a dwarf bent over the anvil nearest us, a hammer thudding rhythmically into it. He was decked in a thick leather apron with metallic looking rivets lining up it with a half helm on the front of his face.

"Paragon! Please don't do this!" Two more ghostly dwarves were restraining a third dwarves mouth as they pushed him toward the anvil, his body all the way up to his neck was encased in stone - unlike petrifying spells it looked chiseled on. "This is madness! I don't want to be a golem!" Chills ran down my spine as it all started to make sense and we all watched in morbid interest at the ghostly images playing in front of us.

"For Orzammar boy. You're doing it for Orzammar." What happened next brought bile up my throat. They placed a helmet of sorts on his head, just eyes and a mouth hole, for... for the lyrium to be poured in. There was screaming before the lyrium ate him away and they sealed up the holes, building up the stone until the dwarf was fully formed as a golem.

"I going to be sick." Laszlo was bent double with his hands on his knees. This time it was Dessa who was comforting him, rubbing her leather glove up and down his back in circular motions. They really were the best suited couple I'd ever seen. Gah - they're making a control rod to control the golem by draining lyrium from the stationary and hardening it over the forge! They're talking about it as they're doing it! Not only did they effectively kill that dwarf - they're taking his free will away!

Fuck... I'm going to be sick too. Who would do this? Who could possibly imagine this up? What did they think they were doing? Whatever dried foods we'd had last night - it all tasted the same now - came back up in an acidic hurl with some of the lyrium I'd drunk... it's a good thing my body had absorbed the magical power to supplement my mana - or we'd be in trouble. How did they even figure this out? They had to do something before this until they got it 'right'!

"This isn't the Anvil..." Shiloh was rather green about the gills herself but seemed to have trained herself not to be sick. "We should move on before we all chuck up."

I glanced up to see Leliana, Alistair and Laszlo had all done as I had. I straightened up and stepped over the puddles of sick.

* * *

The next cavern was lit up, hotter than an open forge because of the bared open magma drop around the back of the area. Two ways in and out. I wonder what was on the other way in?

Eight stone golems lined a path up to a blackened metallic one in front of a gigantic anvil. The whole thing buzzed of lyrium and settled deep in my bones... we're close to a lot of the magical mineral. It almost feels like being in the Fade - no need for potions to keep my mana up. Odd that.

But hopefully these golems wouldn't attack. We're unlikely to survive against eight stone and a metal one. How in the Void would we feasibly do that? I can only work so quickly to disintegrate them - but metal?

"Halt travelers!" The metal golem crackled with lightning as it started speaking. Oh holy shitting Andraste. You have to be kidding me. A golem with magic. Dead in three, two, one... "If you have come so far then I must warn you of the dangers of this Anvil."

"The sodding fuck?" Shiloh unsheathed Holly from her holster. "If you mean to fight - we'll try our damnedest. We're Grey Wardens and we need to get to that Anvil to stop the Blight. "

"No - not to fight." The golem put it's hands up in surrender. "I am Paragon Caridin. The maker of the Anvil of the Void." Well... don't make be feel really skeptical - but I read about him in the Shaperate. He made the Anvil in 940 TE... during the First Blight. So I don't see how this is all possible.

The golem continued on in his deep baritone. "You have passed through my gauntlet, discovering the secret behind my greatest and most shameful creation. It was in the darkest days of the Blight that we sought any means to stop the darkspawn from encroaching on our lands that I made the first golem. The Anvil of the Void allowed me to forge a man of stone and steel, and because of it I was made into a Paragon."

"How... it's barbaric!" Shiloh grit her teeth together. We're going to have a problem here with berserker rage. Shiloh took a deep breath. She's really trying here not to just outright attack. Sensible because we'd all die.

"Just as you Grey Wardens did what you could to end the darkspawn, we too created means to push them back." Did a golem have the capacity to sound so melancholic? Because 'Caridin' did. "At first I only took volunteers. But King Valtor became greedy, forcing political enemies and Casteless to the method."

"Sodding bastard!" Laszlo and Dessa both growled. Got to hand it to them - Casteless slurs rile them up even in the face of a metal golem.

"I could not do it. I stopped making golems and Valtor forced me to the process. My apprentices forged me as I am today but lacked the skill to fashion a control rod - and so I retained my mind." Just - how was that possible... it looked like all that was once a dwarf was melted away with all the lyrium poured into them. "It took the hammer's blow to truly see what I had created - and so I hauled the Anvil all the way here to be midst the darkspawn and the traps I created. I had hoped none would make it so far." So what made a man a man? His mind? His body? His soul?

"So you want revenge for what happened to you." Shiloh breathed.

"Not revenge. I seek to destroy my creation - end the suffering I have over taking the lives and freedoms of those dedicated to kill the darkspawn. Alas, in making me as one, I cannot destroy it and so waited for any lucky enough to come through alive so that they made do so for me. By sealing myself here I stopped others from using the Anvil, but stopped any from destroying it." Shiloh nodded in agreement. Golems may be war machines but this was wrong, it left a horrid taste in my mouth and it wasn't just sick. The golems were a horrid reminder of the desperation the dwarves faced against the darkspawn. Would we have done similarly if they were on the surface the whole time?

"Eldest Aeducan... a woman of honor I see. You have an Anvil for me." I turned my head to see Branka saunter into the cavern... she followed after us.

"We're destroying it." Dessa stood as straight as possible. "The Anvil is evil."

"We are." Shiloh agreed. No glaring for the dwarf when she made a decision for the group - then again, we were thinking of putting said dwarf on the throne.

"You are one of the dwarva! How can you not see the darkspawn spume engulf our lands, take what is ours! We should flourish and instead we rot away like discarded rubbish! The Anvil will let us take back our glory!" Branka screamed. "I won't let you destroy what should be ours."

"Branka - you're crazier than a bleeding nug tail!" Oghren roared. "Don't you see what it's done to good people?"

"Good people won't be living much longer while we fear darkspawn!"

"We're doing what is right." Shiloh rolled her shoulders back. "We need the voice of a Paragon. And we have Caridin now."

"He's been stewing in his madness for centuries!"

"You've become maddened with power Branka." Dessa tried to reason. "You too have lost the ways set to your name. You killed your House in search of this foulness and you'll have to go through me to get what you seek."

"I may not have the honor of being a proper dwarf - but even I can see that this is wrong." Laszlo added. "You'll have to go through me too."

"And me." I have balls of steel. Not literally - I think Caridin has... not going to check - not going to check... damn I looked - nothing - whew!

"The Grey Wardens will not allow you to touch that Anvil." Shiloh declared. "You'll have to go through me too." Ward barked after her as if agreeing. Smart dog. Still isn't going to try and snuggle into my bedroll - he can stay with Alistair... I don't think Shiloh lets him sleep with her.

"That means me as well." Alistair unsheathed his sword and slid his shield onto his arm.

"Me too." Leliana chimed.

"Very well... There would be no convincing anyone this righteous." Morrigan drawled. "Myself also."

"And me Branka. You crazy enough to fight yer own husband?" Oghren grunted. I'm feeling all co-patriot here. We're standing together for what's right. Even Morrigan.

"So you're all against me huh?" Branka drew a twisted wand of sorts off her belt loop. "Well Caridin here isn't the only Master Smith - I'll have that Anvil." She raised the wand... a control rod. "Dulef Harn! Golems - kill all those who seek to destroy the Anvil." The four golems closest to Branka sprang into action, shaking of dust long settled on their rocky bodies.

"A control rod!" Caridin seized up in moving forward. "Please Grey Wardens - I cannot fight alongside you - do what is right!"

"At arms people!" Shiloh shouted before dashing ahead, Holly raised high at the nearest golem to her. I summoned up the energies around me and started to break the stone golem that was coming straight at me into dust - leaving the casing - the gooey dwarf center on the floor. Going to be sick. Dessa and Laszlo flanked either side of the Paragon and were making small sharp slashes at her, wearing past her defenses.

"Help over here!" Alistair was on the floor and one of the golems had a foot raised over his middle. Ward was barking at the stone creation but not distracting it. Ah shit... I disintegrated the leg and the dust sprayed out over the fellow Warden before the golem toppled back motionless. That's good - I don't have to completely obliterate them to stop them. Alistair scrambled off the floor, shaking the dust off. "Thanks."

"Over 'ere!" Oghren was hacking wildly at a golem, shards of stone flying everywhere as he tried to keep the hulking stone back. I sought out a bit of the stone and the limbs of it shattered into pieces. Oghren stumbled back and grinned. One more... where is he?

I glanced over and saw a swarm of insects overwhelming the last golem, distracting it from Leliana who was attempting to draw it away from Shiloh. The three women of our strange group - working together. Wonders never cease. There was a crunch as the golem got a hit on Leliana's ankle and the Chantry Sister went down... ah shit - I was watching and not working. Right...

Hey - I have mana still. That lyrium Anvil is very strategically placed for this battle. I gathered up the dust from the fallen golems. "Move away - I'm blocking this one up!" Morrigan flew her little swarm away from the golem as I brought the stone around it's joints and effectively disabled it.

The swarm attacked Branka and Oghren charged at his wife. She brought her shield up to have a dagger courtesy of our future Queen of Orzammar stab her in the hand and drop the shield. "Change your stance Branka - or you're a dead woman." Dessa growled.

"Never!" And that was the last word she said before Oghren's axe swiftly beheaded her. Argh... really going to be sick.

"Can I have some healing?" Leliana called me over and put her ankle out. Oh - it's twisted out of shape even in her sturdy leather boots. I reached into my satchel and pulled out a relatively clean wad of bandages.

"Bite down on these - I need to manipulate the ankle into the right place." Leliana nodded and took them from me. She muffled a scream into them as I forced her ankle into the right position, sending out numbing tendrils and healing broken ligaments, tendons and bones quickly after that. She took a deep breath in through her nose and handed the bandages back.

"Maker's teeth." She sighed. "Thank you William."

"Oh any time lass." I snorted. "Any more healing?"

"All good over here!" Alistair stretched out his shoulders. "Little sore from the fall."

"I could use some!" Dessa groaned.

"Me too." Damn - two dwarves and their resistance to magic. Laszlo and Dessa had gone face to face with a woman who'd survived two years in the deep roads though. Gutsy little people.

I ran over and put up a healing aura - Dessa has a good bit of blood pouring from her left arm from a slash - and Laszlo a ruptured liver... shield injury. I fought against the dwarven resistance to heal them both, holding onto the tops of both their heads and concentrating on healing.

"Are you alright Oghren?" Shiloh had a hand on the fellow berserker's shoulder. He shrugged it off.

"Fine girlie. Just... that kinda blew it Void outta how I imagined that would go." Not many people would imagine beheading their wife - true that.

"All done. No more fighting Paragons okay?" I smirked at our duo of dwarven rogues. "I can't always go against your magic resistance."

"So much blood... another dies because of my Anvil." Caridin crackled back to motion.

"Paragon Caridin." Shiloh addressed the metal golem. "We came into the deep roads to find Paragon Branka and she made us swear to find the Anvil before she would let us free of these traps. The Assembly is in uproar to place a new King. We need the vote of a Paragon to tip the scales."

"I've been alive too long, too distant to be of any good. If you could destroy the Anvil then I trust your judgement on who to place on the throne." Caridin replied.

"Dessa... we're bringing you back to Orzammar. You're going to be Queen." The dwarf stared slack-jawed at Shiloh.

"I can't. I'm Legion now. Dead and wiped from the memories. I'm no fit candidate."

"Not true." Laszlo grasped her hand. "Our lyrium bombs... they'd make you Paragon for that. A Paragon can take the throne even if they were casteless. King Eithnar Bemot became King and Paragon in one move. You'd be a fantastic Queen. Sela Petrae, Drakestone, Lyrium and Deep Mushroom - who else would have thought something like that up?"

"Not to mention the other more volatile substances...Anyway you helped. It's not my sole invention." Dessa took in a deep breath. "I'm not going to be Queen unless you're with me Laszlo. I've always been odd in my family; not seeing a difference in our castes. But you're my rock, my offhand dagger, the stone I love. I won't forsake you to take the throne."

"Then I'll be there." He drew her into a fierce kiss. "You're my rock too."

"Argh. Tis sickeningly sweet." Morrigan made a retching noise.

"But it's..." Shiloh shook her head. "Caridin - you see before you our candidate. Will you stand with her?"

"I will." Caridin nodded. "I may not be able to break the Anvil but I can forge a crown fit for the new Queen - with the seal of my old House. House Ortan. I only need metal to forge it."

"Would this do?" Oghren held up Branka's shield. It may have blood on it - but it's silverite.

"It will be more than sufficient." Caridin took the shield from the berserker.

* * *

Caridin passed the ornate crown over to Shiloh once it was cooled. "Please..." Shiloh put her hand up.

"I'll do it - pass me your greathammer." Caridin passed over the heavy maul and took a step back. Shiloh passed the crown over to Alistair to hold and she hefted the hammer up and brought it heavily down into the Anvil - shattering it into the Void it was named for.

"My time has come it seems." Caridin sighed, sounding happier than he had for a long time from the tone. "Atrast nul tunsha Grey Warden. May you always find your way in the dark." And with that he crossed his lightning infused arms over his chest and dropped backwards into the magma.

There was a few moments of silence for him before Shiloh spoke up. "So how do we get out of here?"

* * *

The second entrance to where we'd found the Anvil of the Void lead through tunnels devoid of all darkspawn and direct to the bridge before the Legion of the Dead fortress. Is that our sodding bronto with the Legion? How in the Maker's name did it find it's way back here?

"Grey Wardens!" Kardol greeted us as we returned. "Your bronto and cart turned up less than an hour ago according to our personal time keeper. We feared you dead! We were just sending out a troop to... retrieve you."

"We're a little tougher than expected." Shiloh shrugged. "I need ask for two of your Legionnaires to come back with me to Orzammar... indefinitely."

"I... see. Dessa and Laszlo." Kardol looked over at the rogue duo. I guess he knew what we'd planned, it was evident all over his face. "You've been good members of the Legion these past months. Sodding stone under my feet that we'll get worthy replacements. But you're both free of your oath to us. Make Orzammar great again and don't forget Kardol down here."

"We won't Commander." Dessa bowed to him. "The Legion saved my life. I'll send recruits regularly and make sure the supplies get down here safe."

"You saved me too Commander." Laszlo shook the elder dwarves hand. "You gave me someone to fight alongside. I know a few dwarves who'd happily die to fight for some honor like I have." Is it my imagination - or is Laszlo much more intelligent than the nobility would assume of a Casteless dwarf? Most of them seemed much more than what they were painted as.

"Honor for all of us lad." Kardol pulled him into a sort of hug, clasping round his shoulder and patting him on the back. "Now why are you all waiting around? Orzammar awaits!"

"Can we take the Legion tunnels?" Dessa asked. "I understand the Grey Wardens fought their way here through a much less direct route."

"Well we're all coming with you. So of course." Did that sound sarcastic? Kardol...

* * *

As it so happens... twenty or so dwarves called the Legion of the Dead have a direct tunnel that passes under all the old thaigs and leads straight back to Orzammar... and it's free of darkspawn. Has anyone mentioned how much the Legion of the Dead are amazingly wonderful?

We sent up a camp - barricaded by my rocky walls I could create just in case and started up a campfire. The morale was rather high considering the slog we'd gone through to end up with killing the Paragon we'd sought out for and destroying what could have possibly been the key to ending the Blight alive... it would have made me feel dirty to have preserved it knowing what we did about the creation of golems. But a small mercenary part of me was rather worried that we'd done the wrong thing.

I got out my journal and started up a log of the recent events. This may take a while.

As I finished up the entry a bowl of re-hydrated dried beef and gravy was handed to me - 'stew'. I looked up to see Laszlo and he gave me a wink. Huh?

Shiloh sat down next to me after Laszlo left, her own bowl in hand. "We're another three days from Orzammar... three days. Just imagine if we'd known how far into the deep roads we needed to go. We could have done this all so much quicker."

"Yeah. Does feel like we took the stupid route." Shiloh spooned some of her 'stew' into her mouth. She's using her left hand. I never really noticed much how she uses it for eating. Why would she be so adamant about being right handed though. Why would her own mother be so strict about it?

"Aye... but we've tallied up a fair amount of darkspawn. Should make ending the Blight a little easier." I scooped up a mouthful of my 'stew', not bothering to chew much with how empty my stomach felt.

"As if anything will be easy." Shiloh snorted. "I bet you five silvers a piece that the Mages and Dalish will both need some sort of help too."

My face paled... I hadn't thought about going back to the Circle... my conscription hadn't been very pleasant and I doubt Knight-Commander Greagoir would be none to pleased to see me. "I say we find the Dalish next... and did Alistair mention that he thinks going to Redcliffe to ask Arl Eamon for troops would be a good idea? I say Dalish then Redcliffe." Maker - that was quickly spoken. Shiloh looked at me with a quizzical expression, her brows softening and eyes glassy.

"I was going to say... I want to find the Dalish." She took a deep breath. "In the Alienage they're just rumors. No more than myths - all most probably because they don't want us running away to find them."

"In the Circle the rumor is that they have free mages. Again - myths so the elven mages don't try to run away. I don't know what they think us shem mages would run to though." I smirked at using Shiloh's word. It mean human, I'm sure of it. She called Duncan, Jory, Daveth, Morrigan and Leliana it too all at some point but not once did I hear it in reference to a dwarf. I'd thought it meant outsider or something at first.

"You could blend in more." She shrugged. "If you took off that dress..."

"Robes. Not a dress. Robes. And you want me to strip?" I snorted a laugh, shaking the hem of my robes with a free hand. Shiloh's cheeks darkened in the glow of the campfire. "Only joking. I need to change into clean robes when we get back to Orzammar though. I think these have lived a good life, but sadly they're just too saturated with darkspawn blood and filth to be of much use any more." Shiloh nodded.

"I might have to retire these as well... or a fair bit of my armor. Maybe see how much it costs to get new ones. Or if there's a smith that does the proper Grey Warden armors and _robes_."

"Lass, it warms the cockles of my heart to heart you say robes rather than dress." I rolled my eyes.

"You're a good sort you know - for a shem." Shiloh quickly looked at her 'stew' as if it was the most interesting thing in Thedas.

"I am a rather strange shem..." I pursed my lips to stifle the laugh and quickly had another mouthful of 'stew'.

* * *

We broke camp quickly and carried on in the Legion tunnels the second day, most people moving into groups they were comfortable with talking to. Which meant I was stuck with Leliana and Alistair. The Maker really has a sense of humor when a mage finds it easy to converse with a Chantry Sister and a Templar... ah, I don't really think of Alistair like that - he's a Grey Warden who happens to have the templar abilities. Disconcerting that I could be drained of mana so easily but nevertheless one has to soldier on and make friends right?

"I can't wait to have a bath." Leliana massaged her neck as she walked. "Get rid of all this dirt and blood, relax my muscles. Maybe gave a glass of wine."

"I just want the bath and a razor." I scratched the mess of my beard. "Alistair could do with both too."

"Hey! Just because I'm not used to having more than stubble doesn't mean you get to poke fun." He harrumphed. "But both of those sound pretty good to me."

"You both do need a good shave." Leliana smiled. "Men always look better when cleaned, shaved and trimmed."

"I managed to keep my fantastic hair in the same style all this time!" Alistair smirked.

"Just how did you do that?" I waved the mass of knots that was my own hair at him - I really might have to cut it... about shoulder length. I'd never had my hair so short before - not that I can remember anyway.

"I could remove the knots for you. Once you've cleaned up of course." Leliana smiled. "You may find it easier to plait it before we leave camp after that - keep it from getting like this again."

"I'm not too fussed about it lass. But if I ever end up in the deep roads again I'll plait it. Maker knows how terrible I look at the moment." Alistair looked over at me with a bit of a pained expression. What?

"When we set up camp tonight I need to speak to you and Shiloh." That was bloody ominous. Why do I feel like he's going to tell us something horrid?

* * *

Second camp set up and another hot meal in our stomachs; Alistair called us both, Shiloh and myself, to the edge of camp and asked us to sit down.

"Now... I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you both to be here." He pulled his mouth pursed to the side.

"You don't have to be so fucking formal. How long have we been down here?" Shiloh groaned.

"I can't say but forty-five days is my estimate. I could be off by a few days - you did wind up the personal time keeper while I was unconscious didn't you?" Because that was eight days on it's own. That's the only time I was unconscious because Shiloh had quite the mind to keep Morrigan and myself covered in a fight - can't lose the people causing the most damage to the darkspawn now can we? Not that either of us didn't end up with injuries, that was highly implausible unless we just happened to be in top form for that particular skirmish.

"I did." Alistair rubbed his hands up and down his greaves. "But that's not why we're here. Today William said that if he ever comes into the deep roads again that- well that's not important, what is - is that we all will."

"What do you mean? I plan on staying out of these Blighted tunnels as long as possible." Shiloh furrowed her brow.

"Yeah... you know that Grey Wardens sense the darkspawn and each other with the Taint?" Shiloh and I both nodded and Alistair took a deep breath. "It's a death sentence. In thirty years or so from their Joining every Grey Warden goes through what's known as the Calling. The Taint starts attacking our bodies and we go to the deep roads to take out as many darkspawn as possible before we die."

"How..." It seems Shiloh had been shocked to silence an it was me who was capable of speech. "I get that the darkspawn blood was poison in a sense, but we're more vital than we used to be before the Joining. Thirty years though... I'll be fifty-four when I die."

"I'll only be fifty." Shiloh whispered. "How could Duncan have done this! I always thought he was a good shem! He saved me from hanging but now I hear he just killed me himself!" She clenched her teeth together and took a deep breath. "Any more horrible things I need to know about being a Grey Warden other than the dying, hunger, nightmares and I don't know! Maybe we start eating shit before we die because we go crazy huh?" Shiloh was nearly hanged? The fuck? Why? Duncan had 'saved' me in a sorts too, from Tranquility, he seemed to have a perchance for people about to 'die' for his Grey Wardens. But Shiloh doesn't like to talk about how she came to be a Grey Warden so I'll abstain from asking.

"Er... no. Nothing I know about shit eating." Alistair backed off slightly in the face of Shiloh's anger. "But we're all sort of... infertile. You may... never have children?"

And with that our leader stormed off, curses shouted as she balled her fists at her sides and attempted to wake up anyone already sleeping - from the sound of it anyway. "I knew I'd never have any." I smiled weakly at Alistair. "You should know that pregnant mages have their bairns taken at birth. But... I don't think Shiloh imagined never being a mother."

"It was difficult to get over." Alistair gulped. "I hated Duncan for a few weeks when he told me." He closed his eyes. "But he said it - Grey Wardens make big sacrifices to stop the darkspawn."

"Aye... I just hope it's worth an early death, sleepless nights, infertility and this hunger." I rolled my shoulders back. "I'm off to try and sleep."

* * *

I didn't sleep much that second camping night and when we broke camp eight hours later I didn't feel like moving much.

Shiloh looked so sad that I almost took a leaf out her book and went to hug her out of the blue. I didn't - I'm awkward enough as it is. I'd pretty much accepted never having a family of my own from a young age. The day I'd found out about mages having their children taken away was rather harsh and I'd hated being myself for quite a while before I had to accept it as a fact of life.

The girl, Danika, was only an apprentice, she didn't even look pregnant when she gave birth - so she didn't know until her labor started. It was distressing as Senior Enchanter Wynne had been out fighting for the army with some of the other mages at the time. It was Anders' fourth escape and Flora, Petra and Eadric were in their Arcanist lessons.

I was the only Spirit Healer at the time capable enough of easing the poor lasses pains. The Templars allowed a first feed to Danika before they took her wee boy. She never named his father but named the bairn Oslo, apparently after her own father. We don't know where they took him, all we knew was that they gave him as an orphan to a village Chantry and if he proved to be a mage that there were procedures in place that meant he wouldn't be reunited with Danika.

She got transferred to the circle in Montsimmard a year later, a different woman for her experiences. She'd had to take her Harrowing a few weeks after the birthing - as per circle rules and never spoke much to many people. Understandable.

* * *

Third camp was broken earlier than usual due to Alistair waking from a particularly vivid nightmare and screaming the rest of us awake. It must have been luck because that night the nightmares were pretty bad. But we should get back to Orzammar by midday. Baths.

Alistair screaming as he woke up meant he saw Duncan die in his dream... it always meant that. Shiloh almost ran to him, still in her armor that she'd been wearing all this time in the deep roads.

"The nightmares... they're supposed to be worse during a Blight." Alistair groaned as Shiloh tackled him in a crushing hug. Those ones hurt. "I never believed them."

"It's all right." Shiloh soothed. "Just don't fucking well scare people in thinking darkspawn are coming to get us." She backed off him. "By the way - you really, really stink."

"Thanks... that's um... nice to know." Alistair blinked at her incredulously.

"Come on and help break camp. We get baths today." Shiloh brightened up as she walked back to her bedroll and curled it up tight, strapping the leather belt around it to keep it from unfurling. Same thought as myself. I sat up in my bedroll, my people watching done for today.

* * *

I could have kissed the ground as we came out of the deep roads. "Baths. We need to get to Harrowmont's estate and have baths." Shiloh looked out at the underground city. "And we still need to talk to him about the throne."

"I wonder how my dear younger brother will take the news that I'm alive." Dessa took a deep breath.

"Or that a brand stands beside you." Laszlo smirked. "He's a slimy bastard. I can't wait to see the expression on his face."

* * *

The expression on Laszlo's face was better. It just so happened that on route to the estate we bumped into his sister, a girl with the same red hair as him in two twisted buns - and heavily pregnant with Bhelen's child. Dessa vowed that she would take Rica into her House as one of her own due to her relationship with Laszlo - but shit.

Broscas and Aecudans obviously have a lot of natural attraction to each other. We walked into Harrowmont's estate with the Legion of the Dead flanking around us and got shown to our chosen lord straight away. The look on Harrowmont's face when he saw Dessa was quite a picture too. It dropped when he saw her with a hand clasped to a member of the Casteless.

"Princess Dessa!" He bowed to her despite the shock. "I must explain to you why I have undertaken a bid for the throne."

"No need." She put her free hand up. "It was what you needed do with my father gone and my brother the only other candidate. The Grey Wardens have understandably asked that I run against you both to take the throne myself. I ask that should I be successful that you pledge allegiance to my ascension and honor the oaths you took to my father and continue as chancellor of the exchequer."

"But of course." He stood up from his bow. "May I ask how you shall do this?"

"We need talk to the Shaper of the Memories and hold a bid for Paragonhood. Laszlo and myself are going to show them our joint invention." Laszlo pulled on of the small red bombs from his pack and showed it to the lord. "With these we can fight a more effective fight with the darkspawn."

"And if it's not too much trouble - we all need baths and laundry done." Shiloh interjected. "Then we'll be off to the Shaperate."


	16. (Musicalrain) The Crown

Author Note: How about some lightheartedness after the mess that's the Deep Roads? This chapter won't be totally fluffy, but hope you all like! :)

P.S. - How many of you read 'The Journal Entries of William Amell'? Sad, right? :(

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

I could've hugged Bodan. I didn't, because I stink, but I had wanted to. We came across the dwarf on our way to Harrowmont's estate, and got our spare clothes we had left in his cart. Then we sought out the lord – blew his mind with Dessa and Laszlo, and now I'm lounging in a bath. A warm, clean, stone tub fill with water – I scrubbed myself quickly twice before relaxing. The tub is large for a dwarf, so I have no problem submerging myself in the wonderful water. I think I have a _slight _obsession with cleanliness – which is strange for a city elf, I know. The alienages aren't very clean, to say the least.

I hear a knock on the bathing chamber's door and turn my head to see one of the maids come in with a wrapped bundle. She sets it on the low table by the tub and says, "Warden William said to give this to you Commander."

I nod, and she leaves as I bend over the stone to reach the linen-wrapped bundle. I open it to see an elfroot poultice, a jar of what looks like thick creme, and a note on a piece of parchment.

_Apply poultice to any raw areas of skin, and salve to any dry areas after bathing. - William_

I shake my head at the note and set it aside. He probably made these bundles for everyone before taking a bath himself. He tends to go out of his way for everyone sometimes. He's like that. He's thoughtful, kind, understanding. I sigh, submerging myself further into the water and leaning back against the tub. Sodding tall, has pretty eyes, respectful of Holly, kinda funny, rambles adorably, handsome. I sit up quickly in the water. Oh sodding shit! I like like a shem! I fucking _like _a flaming shem! How the fuck does that happen?! I've know him for what? Like... a month and a half? Maybe two? Can people even become attracted to other people in that amount of time? Oh shit. What am I saying? I was going to marry a man I spoke to once before my wedding. And I liked him. But he was a flaming elf, and he's... he's a shem! Oh no, no. Nope. Not happening. Let's ignore this. Totally.

* * *

I can't ignore it. This is some shit. We all gathered for a meal before heading out to the Shaperate so Dessa and Laszlo can place a bit for Paragonhood, and of _course _William sat next to me. I blushed at every single little thing – a bump of an elbow, a companionable pat on the back, a genuine smile. I think my cheeks are stained pink. I'm such a _girl_. This is ridiculous. I'm his commander, not... not... Ugh! I need to hug Ward. Maybe that'll make me feel better. The mabari's clean now, so he can stay with me at night and not Alistair. I feel bad for the servants that had to scrub him.

Anyway! Shaperate, right. So not paying attention to the dwarf. I keep looking at William with his face buried in a book. He's shaved now – goatee back. His hair is back to sorts – how it was before our jaunt through the Deep Roads (as is my hair – I cut it myself. Still jaw-length). Except right now it's out of his normal low tail. I guess he decided to keep his hair loose to let it dry. I like his hair loose. The pieces falling into his face and him having to brush it back behind his rounded ears. Oh. I am so _screwed. _Totally smitten. That's not... that's not good. What the fuck do I _do_?

"Commander?" Huh? Oh sodding shit. Quit staring at the shem Shiloh!

I look down and blink at Dessa as Laszlo nudges her with his elbow, sending a wink my way as he leaves. The fuck? Dessa raises a brow at me. "Did you hear that Commander?"

"I'm sorry," I frown. "I didn't."

I see a smirk pulling at her lips. "The Shaper is proposing our Paragonhood to the Assembly. We'll have to demonstrate our bombs once they ask, and then they'll vote."

"How long will that take?" Don't look at the shem. Don't look at the shem. You're a commander right now Shiloh.

"Anywhere from a few hours to a few months."

This time my brow furrows, and I struggle to keep my voice even. "We don't have a few months to wait around for a vote."

She nods in agreement, "I'm thinking it should be fairly quick. The Assembly wants a ruler, and a Paragon can rule. Our bombs are also reason enough for our ascension. You shouldn't be waiting long Commander."

I sigh, "I hope you're right. We also have more treaties to get to, before we can even _try _to fight this Blight."

She puts a friendly hand on my forearm, "I'm sure everything will work out." Now why did that sound like it had a double meaning?

Some of us scatter after that but the two almost-Paragons (Alistair claiming to inform Ruck's mother about his fate), William, Leliana, and myself stay in the Shaperate to await word, as Dessa's so certain that it'll be quick. I end up reading some on the history of dwarven berserkers, and sure enough within a few hours a page comes by to pick up our two dwarves for a demonstration of their lyrium bombs.

I look around (where did the Orlesian go?) and only see William sitting at a table near me seemingly still engrossed in that book. I close mine with a snap, it wasn't too sodding interesting anyway, and walk up to the mage. I hate fate sometimes. Why do I have to be one of the few elves that find humans attractive? Ugh. And after _everything _humans have done to us elves. What humans have done to my family. What humans have done to me. Even Duncan. He saved me, but... still. But William... he's not like any shem I've ever met. That's a good thing then.

"Do you want to grab something to eat?" Oh. That was awfully awkward, wasn't it? Sodding shit. "Something for our Warden appetites?" Now I'm starting to even _talk _like William. I'll start rambling any second now. Why am I nervous? I've been talking to the guy for sodding _ever _and I realize I like him and can't even talk right? Shitty shit shit.

He blinks up at me from his low dwarven seat. "Sure lass." He looks around, "Let me just find some place to put this where I can come back to it."

* * *

We exit the Shaperate and go to the Commons markets to hunt for a snack. We're both in just tunics and, well, he's in his sleeping breeches and I'm in hose. We're armorless, since all our new armor got pretty beat up in the Deep Roads – it wasn't really salvageable. We'll have to get new armor and robes for the mages before we leave here. I have Holly and Ward – he has his staff, so we're only armed. I don't think anyone would attack us in a market though. Maybe.

We come across a curious dwarven man selling sandwiches of what, I'm not sure. I didn't understand a single ingredient the guy named off. It's nug, that much I get, and some weird cheese that's blue-tinged. William said that Alistair liked that cheese when we had it at the lord's house, so we'll see if it's any good. I don't think I want to know what animal the milk that made the cheese is though.

We sit at a bench over looking the swirling pools of lava the city is built above, with William mentioning on the architecture and I give Ward a third of my sandwich – the mabari is hungry too! I bite into my sandwich (not too bad) and we eat our food quietly. I don't know what the sod to say, and apparently neither does William. We're both _great _conversationalists.

I hear a high-pitched laugh, before William with my pointed ears, and turn to see about four dwarven children running and playing with what looks like a nug-hide ball. Ward gets up and wags his nub of a tail and dashes off after the ball before I can tell him not to, as I was in the middle of chewing!

"Shit. Ward!" I run over to him, and grab a hold of his leather collar – he has the children's ball in his mouth. And... they're all staring at Ward with a mixture of what looks like curiosity and fear. Sodding shit.

"Ward. Drop it." I command, and he does with a small whine. It's covered in his slobber. Eww.

"What's that?" One child asks, his grey eyes wide as he looks at Ward.

"A... mabari."

The child looks towards me and gasps. "You're so _tall_!" I'm tall?

"She has pointy ears! Look!" Another child points at my ears. Am I... the first elf they've seen? Er, what do I do?

I decide to kneel beside Ward. I'm still taller than them, but at least I'm not towering over them. Good thing I took Holly off before sitting on that bench – hate to scare the little dwarves now. "I'm an elf."

"An elf!" The first one says. "Whiddleton said they had pointy ears." Okay?

The second one that had spoke, a girl with pigtails like Dessa looked back at Ward and then at me, "Can we play with your maberry?"

She means mabari, right? I look at Ward – he's panting happily and wagging his nub of a tail. Apparently he likes children. "Um. For a little bit." All the children squeal and I have no idea what they're babbling as they crowd around Ward and start up their ball game again. I get up slowly, as I'm _really _confused. That was... weird.

I walk back to the bench to see William smiling at me. Crap. Now I'm embarrassed. I better not be blushing.

"You have a wee soft spot for the little ones?" I wince. That's a little too soon after what Alistair had just told us about Warden... infertility. William seems to realize this, and quickly apologizes, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean too... um..."

I shake my head, sitting beside him again picking up my sandwich and place it in my lap before replying, "It's okay... Living has it's price when you're supposed to be dead." I was ready to die then – to ensure my cousins wouldn't come to harm for the death of that shit-breath noble. If I was dead I wouldn't be able to have children anyway. Yes. Alright – I had wanted a child one day. That's not too difficult to imagine, now is it?

"You've mentioned that before," mentioned what? "the dying..." He trails off. "You-you don't have to say anything if you don't want to." Oh flaming crap. I said too much... I don't really want to talk about this. But... I read his journal. I betrayed his trust, and now I probably know more about him then he wanted me to know. It would only be fair if he knew a little about me too, right? Maybe it'll ease up my conscious about reading those depressing entries...

"I killed," I start. I look at him from the corner of my eye – I don't see judgment there. "I murdered." I turn to look at him, and can tell he's trying to keep his face impassive. I don't know what the Void he's thinking. I hold my lighter blue gaze with his more brilliantly colored one. "I murdered a noble lord's son, his friends, and his guard."

I see a flicker of emotion in his eyes and he questions softly, "Why?"

"I was kidnapped," I swallow. "The noble and his friends kidnapped me, my two best friends – Nola and Veranya," it helps to say their names. I haven't said their names in so long. Maker, I haven't seen them in so long. I haven't told anyone this either, "my cousin Shianni, and my cousin Soris' betrothed – Valora." I twist my hands together. This is difficult to say. "The shems had intended to rape us." They raped Shianni, but not all of us.

I see a muscle jump in his jaw as his teeth clamp together and his gaze hardens. "And you killed them for this?"

I nod. Please don't think ill of me. "The city guard wanted my execution for their deaths. I surrendered myself, and Duncan conscripted me."

"Is that why you were hurt?" I blink at him. What? He must see the question in my expression, because he clarifies, "Why you collapsed at Ostagar – why I had to heal you?" I nod again. What am I supposed to say? He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. He holds my gaze as he says, "Thank you for telling me Shiloh." He gives me a small smile. "I think you did the right thing lass."

I smile back. It's a sad smile. "Thank you."

It's his turn to look confused, "Why are you thanking me?"

"For not thinking ill of me."

* * *

The walk back to the Shaperate (after peeling Ward away from the dwarven children) – I feel better. Is that weird? I had to hug William after I clarified why I thanked him – I needed a hug after all that, even if it might have been a little random. I feel better though, for having told someone that and for sharing that with William. I think I have eased my conscious some. Shit. I guess he was right when he told me that writing and talking helps when you're lost in your thoughts. Huh.

After we return to, in my case boring, reading – Dessa and Laszlo show up not long after they're finished with their lyrium bomb demonstrations. I hope they didn't do that in the Assembly's chamber – that shit is pretty powerful.

"How do you think it went?" I ask as I sit down my book and walk over towards the dwarves.

Laszlo smiles toothily, "We made a crater in the Proving grounds. The deshyrs were shitting their pants."

Dessa snorts, "Harrowmont thinks they should come to a decision before they depart tonight."

I nod, "Should we return to the lord's estate then?"

"I think we should," Dessa agrees.

A page comes to Harrowmont's estate the next morning announcing that the Assembly has voted on Paragonhood for Dessa and Laszlo. We all ready ourselves quickly – weapons ready, not armor. When we arrive at the Assembly, all the deshyrs (dwarves with staves) call the two former Legion members forward as we file to the back of the chamber.

One elderly dwarf with silver-grey hair and beard leaning heavily on his staff walks to the center of the deshyrs. "Dessa and Laszlo of the Legion of the Dead – we assembled here today have decided on your bid for Paragonhood." He clears his throat and continues. Keeping us all in suspense, huh? "In light of your joint invention of lyrium explosives, an invention with proven destructive potential and effectiveness against the darkspawn threat, and with disregard to caste and standing – we have voted _in favor_ of your Paragonhood." He smiles before he continues, and I see pleased smiles on both Dessa and Laszlo's faces too from where I stand to the side. "Due to the absence of a ruler on the throne of Orzammar, and in light of your status as Paragon to the dwarva blessed by the Ancestors themselves, this Assembly of deshyrs has also voted on Paragon Dessa formally of House Aeducan's ascension to the throne given the overwhelming support of Paragon Caridin and that of this Assembly." He takes a deep breath – can't blame him. That was quite a bit to say. "Please step forward Paragon and Queen of the dwarva, and receive the crown forged by a Paragon long thought lost."

Dessa walks forward, not a falter in her step, and kneels before the deshyr as he carefully places the crown Caridin had forged atop her head. Dessa rises and the deshyrs and assorted other dwarven nobles in attendance kneel and bow their heads to her – even Laszlo still standing behind her. After a moment they all rise and Dessa speaks to her people as Queen. I've just helped put someone on a throne – would have never thought that would've happened _ever_.

"Dwarva of Orzammar with acceptance of this crown and status bequeathed to me here by this Assembly of noble deshyrs – I swear to uphold our dwarven values and innate Stone Sense as honored by the Anscestors and Kings and Queens before me." She turns around and smiles at Laszlo, "For my first act as Queen – I name Paragon Laszlo my Prince and consort, as I will have no other beside me. May the Stone bless us all."

Laszlo saunters up towards Dessa, kneels before her and kisses the back of her hand. Have I ever mentioned how kick-arse of a couple they are? No? Well they are. As Laszlo stands, I hear heavy footsteps as someone runs down the back of the Assembly chamber's stairs and onto the main floor. It's Bhelen – Dessa's younger brother.

"Wait!" He shouts. Sodding fucker is starting to piss me off. "Good deshyrs of Orzammar – you cannot allow this! This woman is a murder – she killed her own brother in cold blood. She is not fit for this throne or status."

Dessa walks towards Bhelen, standing a few paces away with Laszlo beside her. Me and the others start to inch closer too. "I did not kill our brother, Bhelen. Do not spout your lies – the Assembly has voted. It's done."

"I do not lie!" He growls. "I should be king! Not you or that fool Harrowmont!"

I see Dessa's gaze harden. "You could be killed for speaking in such a way to a Paragon – and your Queen. Where is your honor brother? Have you lost it all?"

"You are not my sister! You are dead by right of the Memories and the Stone!"

"Bhelen," she grounds out. "I will give you a chance to regain the honor that you have just wasted here – join the Legion, fight the darkspawn, and regain your place as an honored dwarva."

"No!" He pulls a knife from his belt. "This is a disgrace – I should be king!" He lunges forward for Dessa – intent on killing her here in front of all these people. I withdraw Holly, but before me or anyone can charge Bhelen, Dessa has disarmed her brother with rougish speed and pushed his blade through his cloth-covered chest and into his heart. Dessa lowers her brother's body to the floor as his life's blood pools onto the stone beneath them. He spits blood before death claims him, and Dessa murmurs something I cannot hear as he does. She stands leaving his knife in his chest, and Laszlo pulls her in for a hug. Well that was some sodding messed up shit.

* * *

We leave the Assembly chambers shortly thereafter, but a page stops us on our way to our rooms at Harrowmont's estate.

"Commander Tabris!" I turn to look at the harried dwarf. "The Queen has requested your presence in her private receiving chambers." He lets loose a slow breath, "She also requests that you bring the Grey Warden treaty signed by our Ancestors."

I nod and look towards William – he's been keeping the treaties on him. "May I have the treaty?"

He hands over the blue-wax sealed treaty from his satchel and says, "You're going by yourself lass?" I raise a brow. "There could be crazed fanatics, assassins, or something of the like. You never know."

I sigh – after what we just saw in the Assembly, anything is possible. "You and Alistair can come too. You're both Wardens." That means the witch and Orlesian will have to wait for us at Harrowmont's – Ward is coming with me, of course.

No fanatics or anything come after us as we follow the page to a rather ornate office, with Dessa sitting in a rather large stone chair behind an equally large desk and Laszlo sorting through the various things along the mantle and shelves. Dessa has a small frown on her face. I'm sure this office was her father's – he ruled before her after all. She looks up from the pile of papers in front of her as the page announces our presence. Ward dashes of for a petting from Laszlo – flaming mabari does whatever he wants sometimes.

"Commander, please sit." I move forward as Alistair and William stand awkwardly near the door until Laszlo calls the men over to show him something interesting he found on one of the shelves. I sit in the low stone seat before the desk, and she asks, "Do you have the treaty?" I hand it over, she pops the seal, and starts to read it. After a minute she looks up and nods, "I'll ensure that our warriors are ready when the Wardens are prepared to march against the darkspawn."

She puts a quill in ink, signs the bottom, and I do after. "So," she leans back in her seat after I call William back over to put the signed treaty in his satchel. I've yet to say anything to the new queen. "It seems you are in need of armor, weapons, and supplies?" She gestures at my plain tunic.

I nod. "You would you know if there's any armorers that can make the traditional Warden arms and mage robes?"

She nods in turn. "The royal armorers and smiths have a long standing of outfitting the Grey. I would be happy to see to it that your troop is armed and armored. The dwarva owe you much."

I sigh. That's great to hear. I'll be damned if I'm fighting a horde in a sodding tunic or cheap armor. "Harrowmont's armorers should still have our measurements from when he outfitted us before we went sodding looking for Branka."

She tugged on one of her pigtails. She looks a little aggravated. "There's to be a ball and feast in my honor in a few days. Would you and yours be able to stay for it? You would be honored guests, and you can stay in the palace until then."

I shrug. Why the sod not? "We have to wait for the armor and weapons to be made anyway." I smirk, "I'm sure we'd all like a feast." Grey Warden appetites! Just thinking about it is making me hungry.

"Good." She grimaces. "Noble costumes are required for the ball."

"What the flames is a 'noble costume'?"

* * *

Noble costumes are horrible! Everything the Orlesian has showed me is a puffy fabric monstrosity. Ugh. Dresses. But not normal dresses – gowns. With _colors_ and _corsets _and other terrible things. Morrigan stated she didn't want to go to the sodding ball, but of course I can't get out of it – I'm the fucking commander.

I manage to lose the Orlesian in the markets though. She has terrible taste. Almost as bad as that royal seamstress we were shown at the palace. And I'm pretty sure the Orlesian insulted my lack of sizable breasts at one point too. She didn't outright say anything bad – but I'm sure it was implied. Not my fault elves are petite – and me especially despite my muscles. Actually, I'm pretty sure the greatsword wielding doesn't help me in that regard. I have the feminine shape – just little of it.

So now I'm looking for dresses on my own. Where's Nola when I need her? She's a pretty fucking good seamstress. I decide to wander to the back of the marketplace – maybe I'll find something _not _Orlesian or dwarfy there. And I find something – it instantly catches my eye. It's black, gold and bright orange (because dwarves cannot pick colors – they're worse than the Orlesian), but the style and cut – it looks pretty damned good. For a dress. I walk up to the stand owner and point at the dress on a wired mannequin. "Do you make that?" I know it's a stupid question, but I've never bought a dress before. What the sod do you say?

The dark-haired dwarven woman looks up at me. "You're that Grey Warden Commander aren't ya?"

"Umm... Yes." What the Void? Do you make the dress or not woman?!

She nods as if that was all perfectly normal, and drags over the dress on the stand that I had pointed to. "You like this one, huh? It's a Nevarran style that I've altered to fit the tastes of the dwarva. I make other surfacer clothes – Rivaini if you like." Was that just in reference to my tanned skin? Well sorry my heritage is apparently so obvious. I'm half Ferelden too! But... I know what the Rivaini style of dress is. And it _would not _be appropriate for a ball. Not. At. All.

"The Nevarran's good."

She nods and pulls out a care-worn journal, a bit of marked string, and a piece of charcoal. "I can make it in the Warden colors – navy blue and silver. A bit of gold too for your rank."

Umm... "Okay." I so don't know how to buy a dress.

"You'll need shoes too," she says as she scribbles in her journal. "Accessories too. A circlet and a necklace will do. I can order those for ya from the cobbler and jeweler."

"Al-right." Is it just me, or is this whole purchasing a dress thing weird?

"You'll need it by the Queen's ball everyone's been going on about, I assume?" She looks up at me with her green gaze.

I nod, "Yes." Oh snap! I have an idea. A large smile spreads over my face. "You said you make other 'surfacer' clothes too? Do you know anything about tartans?"

* * *

I'm _so _not a rogue. It's a good thing William's at the Shaperate giving that Orta girl the Ortan Thaig births and deaths register he found in the Deep Roads. Because I'm not stealthy. Nope.

Yes, I'm trying to sneak in William's room. Well, I'm in his room, but I'm trying to find his sodding tartans. I need them to give to the seamstress I found, so she can measure them and make him some new ones for the ball. I've already gotten his foot measurements for new boots from the armorer. I'm sure he'll appreciate it. When we all met with the palace's seamstress, I heard him say that he was just going to wear his tartans and regular boots for it. I think he'd like something a little bit more... special. Sodding guy deserves it. He's so nice, and helpful, and... I should stop that line of thought. Ooh! Tartans! I found you! Let's just run back to the seamstress, and...

"Shiloh?"

"Ah!" Did I just squeak? I turn around from where I've just exited William's room, tartans firmly pressed against my chest, and... see the Orlesian. Sodding great.

She's trying not to laugh. I can so tell. "Why were you in William's room? Isn't he still out?"

I look at the tartans, and then back up at Leliana. "I'm just borrowing these." I don't need to explain myself to her. I can just turn around and leave...

"Is that why you ran off at the markets?"

"Er... Sorta." I take my own advice and turn around and leave. I can hear her giggle from behind me as I walk away. Ugh.

I run into someone else outside the palace after I return from the markets – one smelly dwarf and my former teacher. Oghren.

"Eh. Commander." He walks up towards me.

I crinkle my nose at him. He still smells. "I do have a name Oghren."

"Yeah..." He shifts his feet. "Well I have a question girlie, and it's for the Grey Warden Commander... not Shiloh."

Interesting. His question is probably pointless though. I sigh, "Ask then. But it better not be what you asked me when we first met, because I won't hesitate to punch you back into the sodding Deep Roads."

He laughs, "Hehehe. You sound like Branka when ya say that." He pauses, "No. I want ta ask if I can join up with your lot. On the surface. There ain't nothin' left in Orzammar for a washed up warrior like me. I wanna help you Grey Wardens stop the Blight."

I raise a brow at him. Hm. "Your axe and self are welcome to help. But any more cock scratching while I share watch with you in the future, and you'll regret it." It was disturbing. I don't want to see or hear that again.

"Right-o," he salutes me sloppily. Never had that happen before. Weird. "I best get going then."

He turns around to leave, but I call out to him, "Queen Dessa is having us stay in the guest rooms in the palace. Since you're part of the group now, you can stay here too. Grab your gear, and I'll let the servants know."

He nods, "Thanks Commander."

There's one more added to our lovely mix-matched group. It'll be helpful with him there. Despite being smelly, and, well, Oghren – he has his uses in a battle.

* * *

William has big sodding feet. His robes, tartans, and boots were sent to my room and not his, like I requested. As are mine – really sodding nice armor. Silverite, navy dyed leather, dual-griffon pattern etching. A full front chestplate – fits like a glove (I tried it on already), an extended gambeson in the Grey Warden colors – longer in the back and shorter in the front, no bevor, chain hauberk, chain faulds to protect my hips and thighs, and more ornate gauntles, vambraces, and pauldrons. My helm isn't quite finished – as it's a a full helm with decorative wings on the sides, apparently to signify my status as Commander.

But anyway, William's boots. Yes, I have one on my foot. I couldn't help myself. They're _huge_. Who the sod all has feet that big? Apparently he does. Hmm... Didn't I hear something once about the size of a man's foot and the size of their... Well! That's another thought to get me sent to the Void for sure. Thoughts like that have... been happening lately. More often then I'd care to admit, for sure. Figured out I like like the guy, and apparently my mind just decided to go with it. It's what I get for my days hanging around filthy pirates in my free-time. Right... I should probably take off his boot. We all have to get ready for the ball – it's today.

I lay the clothes I secretly ordered for him in the linen they were sent in, but pause in wrapping them. Maybe I should write a note? He'd probably be wondering where this all came from, and... writing a note's not a weird thing to do, right? A sentence or two is innocent enough.

I rip out a small strip from the back of my journal, and my quill and ink (I bought myself some!) all ready to write.

_A present for all the hard work you put in down in the deep roads. Don't wear yourself so thin in future. I'd hate to see you get hurt, Shiloh. _

I stare down at the piece of vellum. Shit. That's not very innocent now, is it? Er, let's scribble out 'I'd hate to see you get hurt'. There. Much more normal – something a commander and friend would say, right? Hey! I might like the guy, but I know he doesn't know that, you know? That was just too many 'know's. I think I confused myself. Note in sash, and tie linen – there. All done. Now just have to track down a servant and get ready for the... ball myself. Damn. At least I found a decent dress!

* * *

I think there's something wrong with me. I think this dress is pretty on me. It had way, way too many parts to it, so I had to ask a servant girl to help me put this complicated thing on. I liked my wedding dress, true, but I think this is the single most expensive thing I've ever worn that wasn't armor. And that's very unusual. It's nice.

It's made out of velveteen, I think the seamstress said. Mostly navy blue with bands of silver and gold. Very tiny puffs on the sleeves, and the corset loosely tied over a white collared chemise. I told the servant loose – I'd want to breathe, thank you. My hair is down as always – a silver circlet atop though, and a silver and gold tight banded necklace to match. The shoes are of the dwarven noblewoman's style – blocky and heavy. It'll take a little to get used to walking in those – I usually only wear boots or nothing on my feet at all. Oh boots. Let's not think about William's boots now. Inappropriate. Yes.

I leave the room to head to the guest quarters' foyer where we're to wait for introductions into the ball. Sodding weird. I would have never thought I'd be an honored guest at a ball – servant, possibly, but not a guest. Honored guest. Commander. Words that are rarely ever used in reference to an elf.

The Orlesian and Alistair are already waiting by the time I get there. They were leaning together and whispering, but pulled back when they noticed my approach. Weird. Alistair is in Grey Warden colors – grey tunic and blue dress doublet. The Orlesian... is wearing a red puffy monstrosity. Figures. She looks too round in that... thing.

"Oh Shiloh! Don't you look darling!" I think I stopped mid-step. The Void?

"Um... Thank you," I reply back to the Orlesian. What do you say back to that exactly?

"That corset looks like it could be done up a little tighter. Do you need some help?"

My hands fly up to the ties criss-crossing along my stomach. "No. I'd rather breathe." Alistair snickers.

"Hey girlie." I turn around to see Oghren stepping heavily towards us. "I didn't miss it, did I?"

I shake my head, but before I can actually say anything to the dwarf in dwarven noble garb – my sensitive ears pick up the sound of boots along the stone. Holy sodding shit – it's William. Those tartans look so much better on him than on my bed. That's a fact. My eyes quickly flicker from his loose silky hair (he's been wearing it down lately. I very much approve), to his white shirt and sash, to the thing the seamstress called a kilt (it looks like a flaming skirt to me), his white stockings, and lastly his navy boots. Those boots are going to haunt my very inappropriate dreams, I assure you. Hey – it's been a few days since I've accepted I'm attracted to a shem. I can think about his boots if I want to. But... the inappropriateness is most directly my pirate friend's fault (I can still put blame on filthy pirates).

Oh. His eyes just came over to me. Don't blush Shiloh. Damn. I'm doing it. Fucking blushing virgin I am. Such a girl. He froze up – did his eyes just widen? I will take that as a good reaction, considering just how wide his eyes got. I love this dress.

"It seems our resident witch is absent." What? You fucking ask about the witch William while I'm practically ogling your boots? The others all mention on the sodding witch, but I don't pay much attention to their banter until I hear William's distinctive accent again. I'm a little sad now. It's sad.

"I think the prize for best dressed will be our blushing leader. Commander." Oh sod. I'm blushing again. William just bowed to me. "You look radiant this fine Orzammar evening."

Blushing even more. Such. A. Girl. "Thank you."

* * *

We get properly introduced, I really don't understand how all this is necessary, but I am the commander. And then we're seated at the head table with Dessa and Laszlo – Queen and Prince-consort. They serve us wine and enough food to feed a small army. Wine. Hah! Such a pansy drink. Something a sodding Orlesian would drink. Do they have any moss ale? Whiskey? Fucking brandy – something that's not... fruity?! Well... at least it's alcohol. It has that.

Oh lookie. They have instruments. Balls have instruments, right? I've never been to a ball. In the alienage we have parties, different festivals, weddings, and other such things. Not... royal balls.

Dessa and Laszlo share the first dance on the floor. I have mentioned how kick-arse they are, right? They even kick-arse at dancing.

The next dance is announced as a Sinkapace – that's the same thing as a Galliarde, right? Cause I know that one...

"Leliana, si je pouvais avoir cette danse?" The flaming Maker's dick?! Did Orlesian just spew forth from William? Did he just speak Orlesian to the Orlesian? Sodding flaming Orlesians! He's a sodding Marcher – from Starkhaven! The fuck is he speaking Orlesian? And he's... I think I just popped something in my jaw. He's offering a hand to the Orlesian – he wants to sodding dance with the Orlesian! Is it because she's a shem?!

"Shiloh, are you okay?" Alistair whispers to me from beside me. I quickly close my eyes and take a deep breath – in and out.

When I open my eyes, I see William and the Orlesian on the dance floor. His hands are on her – just for the dance, I know. But... I need to fucking punch something. Assassins magically appear! No? Fine! Alcohol!

"Just peachy," I ground out and reach for my wine glass. Downing the whole glass in one go. "Just wish I had something stronger than this crap to drink."

"Hahaha," Oghren laughs further down the table. "You and me both girlie."

* * *

William and Leliana came back to the table shortly thereafter, and when he took a drink from his wine glass, I had one too. I really need more alcohol. I calmed down some over the time it took for that sodding dance. The wine helped, but... I'm still sodding pissed. Doesn't seem like I'll be able to enjoy myself with William and the fucking Orlesian...

"The next dance will be a Minuet!" Oh. Another dance I know. I know a lot of dances – shut up. Wine... How did my glass get so empty so quick? That's sad.

"Shiloh," I look up and blink at William. How the flames did he get over here without me hearing? What's he want? "I would be honored if I could have this next dance with you." Oh he smiles. Why does his smile make me smile even though I'm a little pissed? His smile is so nice. Ah – I better not be sodding blushing!

But... I am pissed. "You assume I dance?"

"Of course."

I can feel a smirk pulling at my lips. I can't fucking stay pissed with him for long. Ugh. "You assume correct. Us elves are well known for frolicking."

So... we're dancing a Minuet. Which is nice, I guess. I did want to dance. Sorta. Such a girl.

But there's one thing still bothering me. "Did you enjoy dancing with the Orlesian?" Is this what jealousy feels like? Huh. Never had that happen before.

He pauses a moment as we step to the dance and answers, "Leliana is a fine dancer. Her face lit up when the Galliard was called." Don't get pissy Shiloh. It's all perfectly fine...

Okay. I lied. There's two things bothering me. "I didn't know you danced." And he can dance, obviously. He's danced to both the first two dances – and no stepping on my toes with his big feet. I'm not pissed enough (yet) to think that the guy doesn't know what he's doing.

"There's most probably a lot people don't know about me. I speak two languages other than Common fluently as well as a smattering of Nevarran." Oh really? I didn't know you spoke flaming Orlesian!

"Yes - I heard some of that." Was that a little snappy? Oops.

He seems cautious to reply, but he does, "My Tevine is better than my Orlesian. I remember a friend of mine saying that there's nothing dirtier than Orlesian on a Ferelden tongue." He blushes. "Not that I'm Ferelden. Being a Marcher - or Havener if you go by city. The Free Marches are more like separate cities rather than a country."

"A friend?" Who the sodding Void is this 'friend' that makes him blush? Jealousy. Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. I need to tamper it down some. Ugh. Berserker training – not helpful here! I blame Oghren.

"His name is Anders. A fellow Ponderous Mage. He used to escape the circle often enough that he'd come back and tell us everything like slang and such that he'd picked up." Aw. That's kinda sad. I think that knowledge has helped reduce my explosive emotions at the moment. I'm all over the place tonight. "I think he's at number six - currently on seven as he escaped not long before I left the tower myself."

Odd... and curious. "I imagine he keeps getting caught then?" I have to pause as the dance pulls me away from him for a moment. Yes – I was having a pissy fit while dancing. Surprising? "I wonder why more mages don't escape and don't get caught." The Circles are... strange. I've mentioned how I don't really understand all the hype over mages, right? They would honestly do more good outside the sodding Circles.

"Leashes. Phylacteries of blood. The Templars take a little blood from you when you're small - preserve it in a vial and make sure if you ever escape you'll end up caught sooner or later." He sighs sadly. "Which is why I asked Duncan to destroy mine. Don't want to be caught now do I?"

"Um..." Well that's fucking fucked up. And... line of thought totally interrupted. The steps of the dance brought us very close. I can almost hug him. I kinda want to. For multiple reasons...

"Alistair - mon Dieu - my foot!" We both look over towards the source of the exclamation. Alistair just stepped on the Orlesian's foot. Hehe. Sodding great! I owe that Warden a hug.

I look back up at William to see him silently whisper over to the other two, "I'm not on healing duty – be careful."

"And I think I'm glad I have a great partner... dancing partner" Oh shit! I was just speaking without thinking! Flaming fruity wine! I blame you this time!

"Holy Ancestors! This beast is trying to eat me!" I look over towards the shrieking words, and see... Ward with his nose firmly in a noblewoman's arse. Ugh. Mabari! Nice timing, but let's not try not to upset the nobles that are to send us troops, yes? That's why we're here isn't it – Blight! Not nose-in-arse time!

"Ward!" I release William to wrangle my mabari. "I'll take him back to my rooms. Carry on dancing," I say to the noblefolk at large. Oh, Ward. I don't know whether to hate or love you sometimes.


	17. (Apollo Wings) The Games We Play

Author note: So this is much needed lightheartedness after the slog of the dwarven questline. I know Musicalrain did a start on the celebrations one would assume take place after a new king or queen. So guess what - I'm putting in a huge bit! Just want to say that contrary to William - I love whiskey. And wine...

Also - little bit of fluffiness abounding ahead! She started it! :P

Also Also... the dances mentioned are real life dances.

Big thank you to all reviewers - guest and otherwise as well as favouriters and followers. You're all the best. Cyber wine and bacon for you all!

* * *

And so, we'd done it all. We got our dwarven troops, put the rightful heir to the throne on it. And more importantly we got clean. Being alive was good too. Very good.

If someone had asked me half a year ago when I was half falling asleep in my Spirit Healing lessons if I ever thought I'd be accessory to crowning a queen and killing monsters as part of my life - I'd have laughed and had trouble breathing. But now - it almost felt as if it was how things were supposed to turn out. How odd that.

We'd been asked by Queen Dessa if we would stay in Orzammar for a few days to attend a ball and feast of sorts in celebration of her ascension to the throne. Who were we to refuse after what we'd just gone through? It wasn't as if a few days you hurt would it?

We also had to wait for our new armor, robes and other essential traveling equipment to be made. All of us needed it and thankfully Bodahn had our spare tunics and trousers for us to use or we'd be walking around in clothes much too small. We'd also been moved into the royal palace for the duration of our extended stay. Plumbed in, so much food. Lichen bread - surprisingly tasty, bronto - surprisingly tender, mosswine - sour as ack.

I was having yet another bath, just relaxing in the warm water and steamy air - sooo wonderful to have regular baths - when there was a knock at the door. Shit - I went to get out when the door opened and I slunk back under the bubbles - sandalwood bubbles. I smell just ever so perfumed because of that. Who the fuck just walks in anyway?

"Warden Amell?" Well... it's someone I don't know. "I have your robes, boots, new staff and your clothes ready for the ball." What? I was planning on wearing my sleeping britches, new long boots and full tartans. I knew it was sensible not to take them into the deep roads.

"Just put them on the bed." I peered around the corner whilst still in the stone bath to see a brown-haired manservant start laying out clothes and my new boots on the bed before placing a pack with a new staff at the foot of it before quietly leaving. My heart was hammering - nearly been seen in the nude by a dwarf. I stood up in the stone bath and kicked the plug out before grabbing a fluffy white towel and started drying myself off. I plodded into the bedroom area of the rooms I'd been given to use and started applying salve to the dry areas of skin that happened when in the deep roads for so long and unable to wash. I'd made up some poultices and salves for everyone who had to go down in those Blighted tunnels. Sometimes people don't like being told they haven't been keeping _certain areas _clean enough. Thankfully - the salves were better than I'd made back in Kinloch Hold. My salves were pretty bad back then.

I dried my hair quickly before landing on the low bed, completely shocked at the clothes laid out. Tartans. I didn't even know dwarves knew how to make that - fuck - I didn't know how one would even start! In dark navy with silvery grey threading, the Grey Warden colors. I picked up the sash and felt the weight of the heavy fabric. It was all here, sash, white collared shirt, kilt... sodding Void - even the boots were a buffed navy leather with thick soles and supportive ankles. I'd had to get my feet measured for them because of the state of my hobnail boots. The seamstress had winked at me. I have not idea why. I'd never had clothes so wonderful. New favourite color right here - navy. Green - close second.

A small piece of vellum fluttered out of the sash as I picked it up and I reached down to the note.

_A present for all the hard work you put in down in the deep roads. Don't wear yourself so thin in future. Shiloh. _Then there was a bit that had been blocked out in scribbles... what the Void? Still - incredibly wonderful these are. I'll definitely wear these to the ball thing.

I took my time in getting dressed, making sure the kilt was secured around my waist properly, it comes to just above my knees - a proper kilt. Just when did I get measured up for things other than boots? Robes just had to be long enough and secured with a belt. It fit so well! I decided to check my new robes while I'm here. Oh... now those are divine.

Navy, thin silverite plating over the chest... long gauntlets with magical augmentation runes... I'm a spoiled rotten mage. I know some mages who'd give their right arm for clothes this amazing. I'll be terrible when I get blood over them. The life of a Grey Warden - doomed to get blood on lovely robes.

I picked up the shirt and slipped it on, tucking the hem into my kilt before putting the wide sash over my shoulder. I have stockings... how in the Void to these go on? There's thigh garters... I think they strap on around the thighs like this... and then you put the stockings on, hooking these weird stretchy things on the hooks on the garters. Yes - that looks right. Oh... it covers my knee tattoos. The boots slip on easily over the woolen stockings, the buffed leather coming to rest under my knees. Great - I have my knees on show. Hey - they look ever so slightly green through the stockings.

Why oh why did someone ever invent stockings for men? Socks are more that sufficient I would have thought. I have to tighten the garters three times before I'm sure they won't fall down while I comb out the wet tangles in my hair. How Leliana removed the clots of darkspawn blood, month old knots and general stone debris that accumulated in it - fuck knows. Even after washing it for the first time after the deep roads it still was dirty. But I didn't have to cut it - plus my facial hair was back to it's usual style, trimmed and shaved just right. I shouldn't care so much for it - but I was so happy when I first started growing the hair that it had been a near constant since I was seventeen. I was trusted with the blunt razor because I was Irving's apprentice by then - having put Senior Enchanter Leorah through her paces in my galvanism training.

I looked into the mirror on the nightstand to make sure I don't look daft - and wouldn't you know it - I look pretty damn good. I'm going to keep my hair down to dry. I might even keep it down for the ball. It's a celebration - I don't have to keep it up so it doesn't get in the way of staff twirling. I've been keeping it down a lot since being out of the deep roads though.

* * *

A page knocked on the door of my borrowed room to inform me that the ball would be starting in ten minutes if I would join the rest of the Grey Wardens and our companions in the foyer of the guest quarters to be formally announced into the feasting hall. I took one quick look in the mirror again to make sure I hadn't done anything stupid like get ink on my shirtsleeves before deciding to keep my hair down as it was dry and following said page to the foyer.

I'm the last to arrive and I nearly want to take two steps back at seeing just what my companions are wearing. I'll go through them in order of who I see first.

Alistair; navy britches tucked into black leather knee boots, grey shirt and a navy doublet with griffin heraldry embroidered on the right chest pocket. He cleans up good for a templar... ex-templar... Grey Warden with templar skills. I'm sure there'll be plenty of ladies of a certain height swooning at the sight.

Leliana; red... now I'm not a huge fan of red but it's a velvet brocade number, corseted tight, dipping low on them um... chest... and billowing out at the hips to feet and at the shoulders before narrowing down to her wrists. It suited her and she seemed very natural in it. Again - the Chantry Sister cleaned up nicely. In fact - it almost looked like she was supposed to be wearing that rather than leathers or Chantry robe. She did say she was brought up by a noblewoman didn't she though...

Oghren; the most recent addition to our mismatched little group was in traditional dwarven noble clothing, garish purple britches and low leather boots with a geometric styled embroidered orange vest over white shirt. Now I'm not saying dwarves don't know how to pick colors - but I'd rather see him in Leliana's dress. It was rather... unique I suppose. Hehe... maybe by the end of the night and enough beer in him he might be wearing a dress. I'm highly surprised at how sober he looks actually.

And Shiloh; my commander. I think my heart actually stopped beating a moment, my mouth dried up and my breath caught in my throat. Her attire was stunning. A dark navy skirt with a gold colored banding, silver then another gold one. A white collared chemise that was covered by a corset done up loosely that trailed into silver and gold sleeves with puffs of the dark navy just past her armpits and at her elbows. A silver circlet and matching choker style necklace finished of the ensemble and is that - a slight blush on those dark tan cheeks? She's almost been perpetually blushing since she told me about how she came to Ostagar... the kidnapping.

"It seems our resident witch is absent." Shiloh's face dropped slightly.

"Yeah - thankfully the bitch refused to be part of _such frivolities_." Alistair snorted. That comment about dwarven ladies swooning - maybe if he kept his mouth shut.

"I still think she's a nug in disguise." Oghren grumbled. "S'not natural to turn inta animals."

"Why don't you look rather dashing William." Leliana smiled. "You're not the only one who looks like they went all out to impress." Then she winked. What is with all the winking? Am I supposed to be getting some meaning out of it?

"I think the prize for best dressed will be our blushing leader. Commander." I gave her a short bow from the hip - I'm being bloody awkward and couldn't think of anything else to do. "You look radiant this fine Orzammar evening."

"Thank you." That blush came back full force a moment. Gah - I think I enjoy seeing this side of her. I'm not helping myself get over this... thing, this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach when I talk to her. It's be best if I don't put myself in the situation where I'm hopelessly falling for her but I just can't help myself. She just so... noble, sacrificing, beautiful. Argh. Evil, traitorous brain. No woman would look twice at a mage. Chantry dogma is too ingrained even in my 'kind'.

"Commander Tabris!" The page that had gone to get me stood at the doors to the hall. Coughing a little. "The assorted deshyrs of Orzammar await your arrival. If you could line up in rank and file for introductions." Now did we actually have rank or file? I suppose we had the rank bit covered in the deep roads. Although that's hardly what the page meant. "I suggest the Commander is in front."

"Alright people. Alistair and William, you'll be behind me as Grey Wardens, Leliana and Oghren, behind them." We all moved into our proper places at the direction and the page opened the doors.

"Announcing the Grey Wardens. Commander Shiloh." Shiloh stood forward through the stone doors to the clapping of the nobles.

"Warden Alistair." Alistair stepped up next to Shiloh.

"Warden William." I followed suit, flanking onto Shiloh's left.

"And two of their companions Leliana of Orlais." Leliana stood next to me, curtseying to the clapping.

"And our very own, Oghren Kondrat." Oghren stepped up to be next to Alistair.

The clapping died down and we were shown to the head table on the right of Queen Dessa and Prince-Consort Laszlo. Glasses of ruby red wine were already placed before us and there was a general murmuring before Dessa tapped her fork to her cut crystal glass to silence the room.

"My loyal lords and ladies. As you all know I owe my very place on this esteemed throne to the Grey Wardens present here tonight. I would like them to experience the very best of our hospitality before they leave our underground kingdom and ask most humbly that none of our noble houses decline to send their finest against the Blight that ravages the world above our heads. I remind all that despite the need to go to the surface that they will retain their caste and status as well as the innate dwarva Stone Sense." The deshyrs erupted in applause.

"Now without further ado. May this ball and feast to commemorate those brave souls that fight the darkspawn and my ascension start."

* * *

The wine, was amazing. I have finally found an alcohol that I can enjoy. Also - the food, I've never heard that nug could be cooked in so many ways, braised, grilled, fried, roasted, marinaded in spiced mead... nug has many uses but I think dwarves outdid themselves on cooking it. I was decidedly full by the end of it all as well as the accompaniments. It was then that a orchestra broke into the first song of the night and the Queen and her partner took to the ballroom floor.

They shared the first dance on their own as we were told tradition dictates, twirling in what I know is a Banle. A rather lively number. Rogues - can really dance. They ended the dance with a chaste kiss and made their way back onto their seats. The assorted deshyrs started moving to the floor and a Galliarde, typically an Antivan dance, was called - also know as the Sinkapace here. Leliana's face lit up and I stood offering a hand to the archer. It's nice to see a genuine bit of happiness in her. She still has this sad look every so often when she doesn't think anyone sees.

"Leliana, si je pouvais avoir cette danse?" She pursed her lips and quickly glanced over at Shiloh.

"Je ne savais pas que tu as dansé." She's lowered her voice to a near whisper and I smiled, of course she didn't know I danced. It's not a conversation that comes up everyday. Oh by the way - do you know your way around a Minuet or Remigold? Both of which were easily my favourite dances.

"Je vais vous montrer ce que les leçons parascolaires à Kinloch Hold m'a appris mais je peut-être hors de la pratique." I replied. Leliana rolled her eyes. What? She knows I speak Orlesian. My accent is terrible because I'll never be rid of my own accent. But still. Dancing lessons were great when you finally go over the awkwardness.

"Then you'll just have to practice then won't you?" She stood, smoothing down the skirts of her dress and walking out onto the floor. I followed her red form and bowed to her to start the dance, placing my left hand to her corseted waist and my right hand in hers horizontally out. Does anyone realize how awkward it is being the tallest people on the ballroom floor? I glanced over to Shiloh, silently willing her to get up and maybe dance with Alistair but found myself still one of the two tallest on the floor with Leliana as the opening chords started being played. Shiloh looked as if she might gut something soon. Why?

We broke easily into the leaping hops of the dance, all the while managing not to get dwarves underfoot due to the large berth supplied us. I'm not that bad! I reckon myself rather good. "Told you I'm out of practice." I grinned at the archer.

"I think you dance rather finely. Is there perhaps a story behind your graceful moves?" I had to laugh a little at her choice of words.

"Aye, there's a little story if you wish to hear it."

* * *

_I was fifteen and being forced to go to dance classes with the other Ponderous Mages as part of extra-curriculars. Maker, as if History and extended spell theory wasn't enough. Senior Enchanters Sweeney and Wynne walked into the room with three Tranquil, Sweeney holding a lute and Wynne a blunted wooden stave._

_"Now today we'll be starting with a relatively simple dance, a Waltz - or for those of you from different countries -" Ie - all of us, Flora is Rivaini, Anders is Anders and I'm a Marcher. "A Ferelden Waltz."_

_"Is there a difference in the steps?" Flora had put her hand up to ask the question. Good one that._

_"Not particularly, but the Ferelden style is seen as the classic." Wynne replied._

_"How are we going to partner up?" Anders' hand shot up._

_"You'll be assigned to one of the Tranquil." The three shaved bald mages stood stoic for a moment before walking calmly to us, I was the only one not towered over by their partner - sometimes it's good being tall - then again, despite being twenty, Anders was paired to a very tall Tranquil lass. "Now Sweeney will start playing and I want you to remember what we learned last lesson. The Tranquil won't mind if you mess up."_

_Sweeney adjusted the knobs on the top of his lute before testing a few chords. He seemed happy with it and started to play - a little off key. "Now - one, two, three, four - Keep your eyes forward Anders!" Wynne rapped her staff on the marble floor with the beat. "One, two, three, four - William please don't slouch."_

* * *

The Galliard ended and I bowed to Leliana again, slightly breathless for having undertaken such a vigorous dance and speaking at the same time. "Quite the tale. But I fear I am a little tired after that dance. I might sit down for the next one."

"As you say lass." I accompanied Leliana back to the table and picked up my half full glass of wine by the stem, swallowing a large mouthful.

"The next dance will be a Minuet!" The conductor announced. One of my favourite dances funnily enough. I finished off the rest of the glass to get the courage to ask.

"Shiloh, I would be honored if I could have this next dance with you." I gave her a warm smile and the small scowl she'd been sporting a while softened from her face, replaced by a little bit of blushing if I'm not mistaken. Gah - I'm addicted to that blushing. Bad brain.

"You assume I dance?" Was the very dry reply.

"Of course."

"You assume correct. Us elves are well known for frolicking." She smirked and stood from the table as I lead her to the dancing floor.

Leliana was dragging Alistair over... I thought she said she was tired? Never mind I get to dance with... ah bollocks. I'd put myself in another awkward situation. I swear I stumble my words much more around her. Did Leliana and Alistair both just wink? The sodding Void? I don't understand all this winking. Maybe people just get a lot of grit in their eyes and I don't notice winking myself?

The orchestra was counted in and very gently I held out my hand to Shiloh, keeping the distance between us to the two paces dictated for the start of the dance. She took my hand and I bowed whilst holding it and Shiloh curtsied as I stood. Dancing is as much to formality as magic is to mages. It'll hopefully keep me occupied enough not to say something stupid. "Did you enjoy dancing with the Orlesian?" We started the graceful steps.

"Leliana is a fine dancer." Bob slightly, and turn while keeping hand clasped. "Her face lit up when the Galliard was called."

"I didn't know you danced." Shiloh pursed her lips a moment.

"There's most probably a lot people don't know about me. I speak two languages other than Common fluently as well as a smattering of Nevarran." This is a good conversation. Light enough I suppose, maybe a little tense - did she hear me speak Orlesian?

"Yes - I heard some of that." Shit - she did. I moved in to take both her hands as we started the sharp twists.

"My Tevine is better than my Orlesian. I remember a friend of mine saying that there's nothing dirtier than Orlesian on a Ferelden tongue." Shit... I just said that aloud. I can feel my cheeks burning. "Not that I'm Ferelden. Being a Marcher - or Havener if you go by city. The Free Marches are more like separate cities rather than a country."

"A friend?" Now that was slightly biting in tone. Is there something wrong? Maybe she was uncomfortable in a dress. She said she doesn't like them. It really does make her look stunning though. I didn't lie when I complimented her.

"His name is Anders. A fellow Ponderous Mage. He used to escape the circle often enough that he'd come back and tell us everything like slang and such that he'd picked up." Her face softened slightly. "I think he's at number six - currently on seven as he escaped not long before I left the tower myself."

"I imagine he keeps getting caught then?" Shiloh moved out into the sweeping next move before I drew her back in. "I wonder why more mages don't escape and don't get caught."

"Leashes. Phylacteries of blood. The Templars take a little blood from you when you're small - preserve it in a vial and make sure if you ever escape you'll end up caught sooner or later." I sighed. "Which is why I asked Duncan to destroy mine. Don't want to be caught now do I?"

"Um..." She seemed at a loss for words and to be honest - so am I right now. This dance... I didn't think about how close we'd be near the end of it... almost as if we were hugging to be this close.

"Alistair - mon Dieu - my foot!" Thankfully - Alistair had taken that particular moment to step on Leliana's foot. Perfect timing. I felt incredibly awkward.

"I'm not on healing duty - be careful." I stage-whispered at them. As if a trodden on foot required any healing. At worst it'd bruise.

"And I think I'm glad I have a great partner... dancing partner." Shiloh's eyes widened and she blushed violently.

"Holy Ancestors! This beast is trying to eat me!" Our attention was draw to a shrieking noblewoman.

"You have to be shitting me." Shiloh slapped a hand over her face. Ward was currently nose to arse with a noblewoman on the dance floor. "Ward!"

The mabari cowered at hearing it's name spoken so harshly and went to scamper away when Shiloh grasped hold of his leather collar. "I'll take him back to my rooms. Carry on dancing." Shiloh half dragged the whining warhound out of the hall and I returned to my seat as the finishing moves of the dance continued around me.

"Enjoying the dancing?" The Queen smiled at me.

"Very much, it's as if the conductor picked my favourites." I replied politely. "Your majesty."

"You knew me as a Legionnaire - I'd hate to see you start calling me something other than Dessa." That was none too forceful a 'call me that and taste dagger'.

"And if you think of putting on airs to me. I'll die of laughter." Laszlo snorted. "Harrowmont did that yesterday. I nearly wet myself."

"How are you settling into royalty then?" My wine glass was refilled as the waiter took his taster of it - a fail guard a poisoning attempts. I picked it up after he put it back down.

"Sodding great. I'd ask if you could stick around for when Rica drops but I think there's a Blight on and a certain Commander that would have my guts for garters."

"True. I don't know just how we'd survive without a healer when we have two berserkers running into battles." This wine - is getting better I swear it. Then again, it doesn't burn or taste like dirt so it's actually the best thing I've ever drunk. Shiloh came back into the room, slightly flustered and picking off a bit of mabari hair from her skirts. "So how did Ward get out?"

"A servant came in to put my new helmet in the room. It took longer to make than the rest of my stuff. I locked him in the bathroom with some food and water." She sighed sitting down in her chair.

* * *

The ball came to a close a few hours later, the bulk of the deshyrs having retired to their estates.

"Hey! I have... an idea!" Shiloh stood up abruptly and grabbed my hand. Leliana and Alistair both choked on their drinks. Huh?

"What would this idea be?" Leliana managed to squeak.

"I have an inkling." Oghren grinned, staring at the bottom of his tankard as if he wasn't sure why it was empty. "There's a bed involved... mosta the time."

"Oghren!" Alistair elbowed the dwarf in the stomach and got a swift jab back in the side. It might be the wine but I'm confused.

"A game! My pirate friend taught me it as a after party thing... we totally need to play it - all of us. Come on!" I started getting dragged out of my seat and Leliana, Alistair and Oghren all stood - the dwarf rather shakily. Why am I being dragged? Do people think I'm no fun and need dragging to play this mysterious game? "Orlesian... Alistair - we need as much of that wine you can carry."

* * *

And so I found myself seated on the floor in a circle around nine bottles of wine, Leliana on one side, Shiloh on the other with Oghren next to Shiloh and Alistair between the dwarf and Chantry Sister. "So... this game?" Alistair looked as confused as I felt.

"Right. It's called Never Have I. We go round in - in a circle. Saying 'Never Have I' then saying something we haven't done. If anyone in the group has... ya have to drink." Oh yay - drinking game. At least I actually like this drink. I might just have got up and walked away if it was whiskey or that dirt-beer. "There's rules though. One - no sodding lying. Two - if you can't tell us why - you drink double. All clued in on those?"

"I have played a similar game." Leliana nodded.

"Me too girlie. One of the favourites in Tapsters." Oghren grinned before getting his hand batted away from the wine by Leliana.

"I think I can handle that." I pinched my lips to the side. So things like 'Never have I... I'm stumped - never gone swimming.'?

"I think I played it with this Warden from the Anderfels... big guy - bushy beard." Alistair stared at the wine. "We played with whiskey."

"Gregor?" I blurted. Now I'm a little sad. He's not here to play with us. I reckon he'd be laughing at how weird we all look in these outfits sitting on the floor of Shiloh's suite and making my tattoos look 'pathetic' next to his tribal markings.

"I'll start!" Leliana cut into the little sadness just worming it's way in. "Never have I fought in a Proving."

"Bollocks." Shiloh grabbed one of the wine bottles and glugged back a mouthful, as well as myself, Alistair and Oghren. "I'm not elaborating on that shit. We all know how and why we were in the Provings. Clockwise!" Shit - I'm next. I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand. What the Void will I say?

"Never have I gone swimming." Yeah... I might have mentioned it before. Eloquence and sophistication poured into a mage. I can be witty when I least expect it. Not when I want to be obviously. Alistair, Leliana and Shiloh all groaned.

"You really haven't gone swimming?" Leliana questioned.

"Neither has Oghren!" I gestured over at the dwarf who _wasn't drinking_.

"Hehe, that's coz we sink like stones." Oghren laughed. "So Stretch don't swim. No big deal. Girlie - your turn - up the ante!"

Shiloh smirked a moment at the dwarf's words. "Alright... consider the ante upped. Never have I..." She licked her lips and her cheeks bloomed darker. "I er... Never have I gone streaking."

"Ah - boring." Oghren picked up a bottle of wine and glugged a few mouthfuls, as did Leliana. "Whey-hey! The chantry thingy has spunk!"

"I was dared!" Leliana gasped.

"I weren't - wanted to air out the old cock." Everyone grimaced. Not an appealing thought. "My turn now then... let's have a proper one. Never have I... hehehe... slept with a man." Did that sound like it was directed at me from the way he waggled his eyebrows. I'm not planning on making that change for you dwarf. I'd have to freeze off my fantastic balls of steel.

And the only one in the room who drank - was Leliana. Well... I now feel increasingly awkward. Leliana hiccuped into her wrist before putting the bottle of wine down. "Try to pick something I haven't done Alistair."

"Oh I don't know - I think the Chantry Sister has a secret past... alright... Never have I..." He got this stupid grin on his face and looked me dead in the eyes. "Slept with a woman."

"Ha! I knew I could smell virginity on ya!" Oghren smacked him on his back. "This nose never lies. Might be better if I could smell cheese though..."

"You have my sincerest apologies." Alistair smirked. Obviously - Oghren drank. I would assume a married man has at least slept with his wife even if she did prefer women. Leliana and I both reached out for the same bottle... now I feel so much less awkward.

This wine... even better. Does wine get better the more you drink? "Do I have to elaborate?" Leliana pursed her lips.

"This room suddenly got a whole lot better." Oghren chuckled. That was easily in reference to Leliana having... slept with another woman. I felt the burn on my cheeks still.

"I suddenly hope I don't." Leliana grimaced. I can't keep track on who's speaking when everyone starts talking.

"Hehehe. Bet ya don't." "It's Leliana's turn to drink next." "How did you two carry so much wine?"

"Everyone calm the fuck down." Shiloh slammed a palm down on the stone floor. "This is a game. A FUN game. Orlesian - your turn."

She paused a moment then - "Never have I had sex in public." I suppose the library is a fairly public place... damn. Oghren and I were the two who ended up drinking and Oghren spat his wine out while staring at me.

"Fucking Void... In the library!" Now - everyone is staring at me except for Alistair. Ah shit... I told him. Did his turn on sleeping with women have ulterior motives? If so - burning up. My turn though let's see - keeping with the theme of the evening.

"Never have I had sex with more than one person." I passed the bottle in my hands over to Leliana and she wrinkled her nose at me.

"Hey now - do we mean at the same time?" Oghren squinted.

"Aye. Same time." Leliana still drank - as did Oghren.

"Ah fuck." Shiloh snorted a heavy breath. "My turn. Never have I..." Oh, the blush returned. Well it's your game lass, we're merely the puppets here. "Performed oral sex."

I glanced over at the bottle of wine. I'm going to get very drunk if we keep on with the sex questions. Not that I've done _that_ much mind you... but I'm not in a chastity belt. Strangely enough - only Leliana, Oghren and I drank. Really - for a Chantry Sister turned sort of mercenary for us Grey Wardens... she's got around.

"The beard." Huh? Who said that... I opened my eyes - when did they get closed? And stared at the blurry dwarven figure with a bottle in his hands. "Tickles 'em in all the right places huh?"

"I'm not listening!" Alistair clamped his hands over his ears.

"What do you find my fine dwarven friend?" I smirked at him... I think. I'm feeling slightly light-headed.

"Oh they do." Leliana giggled, falling forwards a little.

"Whelp... my turn next. I say we make this a game of get Stretch drunk. He's funny drunk." Am not. Is that a light?... looks shiny. "Never have I had sex with a girl that has tattoos." Really? Lots of lasses have them. Sod it. I picked up the bottle again... it's getting fairly light. Lots of things are. It's like having too much lyrium.

Leliana and myself drank... Leliana looks like she's going to fall asleep. "My turn... let's see... I... I can't say that."

"Can't say what templar?" I gestured the extremely light bottle of wine at him. "How's ya... sod. How's the pike twirling going?"

"That sounded rude!" Leliana burst into a tittering laugh.

"I'm the one who named him that - give it back!" Oghren got restrained from getting up by Shiloh.

"Fine - I will say it. Never have I gotten any tattoos." He really took the pike twirling thing harshly. Sober bastard. Leliana - don't leave me to drink alone. Please have a weird rune symbol on your shoulder or something. I heard they're all the rage in certain places.

I am the only one who drinks. Funny that. You can see my face can you not... I tipped the last of the bottle into my mouth before putting it down. Feeling - buzzy. Like there's a bee in my head. "Leliana... s'your turn."

"Hmmmmm..." she put her index finger up her lips. "Never have I..." Then she promptly fell backwards onto the floor - out cold. Shit - how much has she drunk? I think she was drinking in the feast thing - and after dancing. And near constantly in this game... she did empty a bottle and a half. Maybe don't have such large gulps? Hehehe - large gulps. There's something weird in my mind when I laugh inside my head. She'll be fine but her head in the morning may be a little sore.

"I dare you to do that lightning trick to wake her up." Shiloh whispered in my ear and I nearly jumped at the feeling of her breath so close to me.

"I'm not a cruel bastard lass... But I was told if you don't necessarily cast lightning... just hold the spell on your fingertips - there's some thrills to be had." My face split into a wide grin and Shiloh looked like she stopped breathing a moment before going red all the way up to the tips of her ears.

"Oh really? I might have to find out." And that was me bright red. But Shiloh is sort of flirting... slightly tipsy flirting.

"Maybe another time Shiloh." I grabbed a single piece of static from the room and held the tiny shock on the end of my index finger, wiggling it at her but keeping it away. Because two can play at this game. It's not like I... shit... I know I really like like Shiloh. But she's teasing.

Oghren - guffawed. Proper belly laughed. Alistair - tittered like Leliana. Shiloh might have broken a blood vessel in her face. "Before you too end up doing it right here in front a us." Oghren took in a deep breath. "There's more wine to drink... I'm hardly hummin' here Wardens."

"New game!" Shiloh pursed her lips. "Truth or dare!"

"Love it!" Oghren picked up a bottle of wine.

"What... what are the rules?" I blinked. New game then.

"We go round clockwise... you ask the person on your right if they want a truth or a dare. So Oghren might ask Alistair if he's ever worn ladies panties. Hehehe... and if Alistair can't answer he drinks. Or he can pick dare - so Oghren could ask him to run around the room claiming he's a chicken. If he can't do it - he drinks. Either way - it's half a bottle you need to down."

"Why did you use me in the example?" Alistair snorted. "Come on Oghren - try your worst!"

"Right ya little pike twirler - truth or dare." Oghren smirked under his plaited beard.

"Dare."

"Witches panties - get them." To whit - Alistair picked up a bottle of wine - pulled the cork out with his teeth and downed half the bottle. Now that - was hilarious. We all laughed - but I think I was loudest.

"You think that's funny do ya?" Alistair put his tongue in his cheek. "William - truth or dare?"

"I'm not... stupid. I might be getting a teensie little bit drunk... but I'm not stupid. Dare me." He knows too much. Much too much about my sordid little life.

"Hehehe." Oh that sounded like a leaf taken out of Morrigan's Book of Cackling. "I dare ya ta tell Shi-" I grabbed the bottle very quickly and finished off what he'd started. Nope - I know what he's going to say. Nuh-uh. Not happening. I'm awkward enough without bearing my heart. I slam the heavy bottomed bottle down and gasp for some air. Shiloh is furrowing her brow. Not explaining.

"Shiloh... lass... truth or dare?"

"Well after that - I'm going for truth." Hmmm... right now I have to think of something to ask.

"What's the most ina... inapprop... inappropriate thing you've ever _thought_?" Shiloh blinked at me for a few moments before grasping wildly for the nearest bottle and actually downing the whole bottle. Wow... that bad huh? She leaned forward and let the bottle skitter away from her grasp.

"Oghren - ya sonovabitch - truth or dare?"

"Oh I'm goin' fer dare!" Oghren shook out his shoulders. Or I think he did - he looks so far away.

"William - you sober enough to make ice?" Huh... maybe.

"Less see... ice. Ice... How do I make ice..." I held my palm out just staring at it for a moment before I felt the inherent water in the air and brought it close together in my hand, stopping the vibrations in the little molecules until it froze solid. One chunk of ice. I put it down on the floor and I swear it moved.

"In the pants dwarf. Under yer smalls." Oghren grabbed the ice and promptly shoved it down his pants - as well as picking up a bottle and downing the whole lot.

The next thing I know... I'm reciting the rules of mana and willpower control in reverse word order while laying down on the bed with my head upside-down on the floor before the world goes very very dark.

* * *

I wake up to a very bitter taste in my mouth - a lot of groaning around me and a headache you could solidify and nail to the wall. I grasped toward my temple and found I was in a ball on the floor... with just my kilt and the weird stockings on. What in the Maker's name happened last night? I sat up and tried to get my bearings... why do I wake up in Shiloh's room? This makes it the second time this has happened. The last thing I can really remember is...

Getting dared to have Oghren lick my back. I was very very drunk. As was Oghren... Shiloh and Alistair. I think Leliana had already passed out. It is not healthy to drink wine in the copious amounts we did. I will never let a single drop of alcohol pass my lips ever again. At least - not in anything more than a singular glassful.

Head hurts too much to heal. Argh... I think I have health potions in my room. That could help. "What happened?"

"I think we all got very drunk." Was the reply. Alistair - little quieter please?

"Who remembers daring Oghren to piss himself?" Shiloh groaned. I glanced over at the still form of dwarf - when the smell of urine assaulted my senses. How can I still have such a sensitive nose after all the darkspawn blood and dirt I've had to deal with?

"Well well well. I hope you all enjoyed last night." I strained to see Morrigan in the doorway - light piercing around her robed form. Ouch. "We need be on our way. I vaguely remember that there is a Blight to be dealt with."

"Sod off witch." Shiloh pushed one of the empty wine bottles toward her. I'm surprised we woke up at all. There's so many empty bottles! Argh... Ward is barking in the bathroom.

* * *

Health potion was drunk like it was life saving elixir. Head still hurts but healing magic is within my capabilities. I healed everyone from hangover headaches before any of us even felt like moving to get dressed for traveling. Or - in our new armor. Even Leliana was given Grey Warden leathers - Morrigan still had her usual attire - for not taking it into the deep roads and wearing the new stuff down those horrid tunnels.

But despite raging hangovers and never wanting to drink again oaths (We all lied through our teeth). We still had to get out of Orzammar. "Well - where would the Dalish be?" Shiloh flattened out the map on the desk in the foyer of the palace. Alistair leaned over and pointed to a huge patch of green spiky sort of stuff... that easily took up a quarter of Ferelden.

"The Brecillian Forest would be our best bet." He murmured... he's still hungover with a bit of a headache - I do remember that dare Alistair. I might have been one of my last coherent thoughts last night - but I remember it you fucking templar. Think you'll be completely cured do you? I'm just a wee bit evil when I want to be.

"Looks like a fair bit of camping. We travel the north road then split into the forest twenty miles south east from Highever." Shiloh rolled the map up and passed it over to me to put it in my satchel. I hope it's not too cold. Can we buy more blankets if it's cold?

* * *

It's fucking cold... and windy... and damned bright. Headache please dissipate please?

"Woah... that..." Oghren was just staring upwards, swaying in the wind. Thankfully downwind.

"The sky." Shiloh breathed. "I never thought I'd see it again when we were down in those fucking Blighted tunnels."

"Does it have ta go so far _up_?" Ah - nearly forgot about the dwarf thing about falling into the sky. I hope all those Casteless we sent to Denerim are okay.

"Just think of it as a very high ceiling." Leliana smiled, stretching out her limbs in the cold. Low tolerance to alcohol meant she had the least headache out of all of us because she'd just zonked rather than continued drinking.

"I repeat myself... it's too fucking high." Oghren grumbled.

"Do you want to wait a moment?" Shiloh asked him. The dwarf snorted.

"I'll be fine. Just... so high... why does it have to be so high."

* * *

We needn't have worried at all about Oghren, when we got underway he was looking at the sky as if he'd been born under it. It was one of those cloudless days where the sky isn't grey or blue but white. So it did seemingly stretch into infinity if you thought about it. I hope this won't be a problem with the dwarven troops.

Eventually we set up camp and unloaded out tents and bedrolls from Bodahn's cart. Why he was still following us was anyone's bet - there most probably wouldn't be much trading to do with the Dalish. But then again, who are we to turn down something to carry our supplies while we walk? Exactly - nomadic Grey Wardens in search of nomadic elves. That's what.

"Do you need help with your tent William?" Very obviously - it looks like the poles attacked the canvas at weird angles right now. I sighed and kicked at the canvas.

"Aye. I'm bloody useless at this. I'm more likely to conjure flames than pitch a tent." And to prove it - I stuck out my palm and... fire spluttered on my hand. The fuck?

"Fire!" Shiloh giggled. "Go see if you can start the campfire - I'll do this."

"As you command." I gave her a cheeky smile before heading to where Alistair and Oghren were cleaving logs in twain and setting up the stones around the pit. "I discovered I can almost do flames... so I'm going to see if I can start the fire today."

"Great - another fire hazard for my beard." Oghren groaned, hefting his axe down in a huge arc and splitting a log.

"At least he doesn't turn people into frogs." Alistair smirked.

"Mages can't do that." I sighed, squatting to the firepit and sticking a hand under the sticks and logs to the soft straw-like kindling and trying to conjure flames. I felt the burn splutter from my index finger and scooted back as the kindling caught fire. Oh yeah - who's an awesome mage who can do something when it comes to camping? Me - that's who. Might never learn how to actualy do proper flames - but this is huge!

* * *

So life continued on for a week in a relatively boring way - a cold boring way but it was much better than hordes of darkspawn and nearly dying. A haggard woman in ripped clothes started running toward us and collapsed sobbing into the long gambeson of Shiloh's armor... the Void did she come from? "Please - you have to help me!" She wailed. "The darkspawn attacked our caravans... they're all dead... I ran for my life!" Was I just thinking about how we hadn't died recently? Maybe I should stop.

"Point us toward them." Shiloh unsheathed Holly from her back and nodded. The woman got up and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

"It's not too far... I can show you." Then she started running and we followed, everyone was at their ready. I can't sense any darkspawn though. This feels suspicious.

We entered a clearing and there were people laying on the ground, blood soaked into their armor and she stopped and helped one of them up... the fuck?

The man she'd helped up drew two long daggers from his shoulder sheaths and smiled at the woman. "The Grey Wardens die here!" Where is that accent from? But it's an ambush... shit. How in the Void did they know what we were? Not going to ask. The men in bloodied leathers were getting up from the ground and pulling out daggers and bows from hidden areas.

"Gut that bitch!" Shiloh ordered. Alistair moved forward to attack when the woman suddenly cast lightning at him and he stoop still - convulsing. Fuck - fuck - fuck... oh and fuck again. That was powerful. The bitch was a mage - a Galvanist.

"I'll deal with her!" Shiloh nodded and we started the fight. The bitch had already drawn most of the static from the air so I grasped for the stone inherent in the ground and brought it up around her before throwing a fist of stone at her.

Which she blocked with an Arcane Shield. So a Galvanist and Arcanist. Bitch. But it's cold... "Morrigan - sleeping hex!"

The witch needn't have bothered. Alistair smited her with everything he had before swinging his sword round and cutting deep through her neck - blood spraying over his face.

I felt the static returning to the vacuum of the area (as static does - everything tries to right itself) I immediately grasped onto them and discharged them into the hexed sleeping archers on a outcropping - making them drop like ragdolls. I swear I felt their heartbeats stop. Their position was good though - they would have easily overpowered us if not for the entropy spells of our resident witch.

Shiloh and Oghren powered on through a cluster of the dual wielders - blood splattering as they moved... fucking Andraste - they're tied up in wire and have clawtraps around ankles - caltrops flying into the air as their proximity shook the fragile traps into action. How are they still standing let alone fighting?

Leliana ghosted around the two berserkers and was disarming traps as she went... smart lass that one. When a rogue stepped out of the shadows. He suddenly burst into flames and Leliana turned to him, drawing a skinning knife from her boot and stabbing him in the burning chest. Go Morrigan - team member.

The last of them started to turn as we continued the slaughter until Leliana, Morrigan and I finished them off from a distance. We're not going to have them regroup. "Healing berserkers?" I smirked at the two of them as they were untangling wire from legs and stretching clawtraps off heavy armor. So I'll take that as a no. Good that they have heavy armor.

"I'll have some... that bitch frazzled me." Alistair pointed at the near decapitated woman shakily. I wandered over and summoned up a healing aura... just the general burnt out nerves and smaller blood vessels from a low voltage jolt. It's lucky he's a templar and has some hostile magic resistance. One of the leather clad foes near his feet started groaning.

"I feared I should wake up dead. If I woke up at all." Oh Holy Andraste... really? I discover my powers are getting stronger and accidentally heal a foe near dead... just brilliant.

"Tie him up." Leliana ran quickly from Bodahn's cart and to the groaning bloody form and yanked his arms forcefully back as she wound the rope around his arms. Shiloh drew her belt knife and held it under the man - I can see he's an elf now - under his neck. "Now - whoever you are - you're not only going to tell us what the fuck you're doing here trying to kill us. But you'll tell us how you found us and how you know who we are."


	18. (Musicalrain) The Things We Say

Author Note: You guys! I _love _this chapter (for multiple reasons) and had soooo much fun with it. You'll see why! I hope you all love it too! :3

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

We've been walking for nearly a week now. We've been walking _ a lot_lately. Way, way more than I'm used to for sure. And with this heavier armor (way more thick plate than chain), I think I'm getting more muscular. I was, since training with Mamae, 'wiry' – but I've noticed my muscles are getting slightly more defined since our journey to Orzammar. Especially my arms and shoulders. I don't know if I like that much. I still have some feminine curve, of which I'm thankful for, but I'm starting to get... self-conscious. Ugh. Such a girl.

It doesn't help that they only other women in the group are the witch and the Orlesian. One that apparently has quite the _history_as we all learned during our games after the ball, and the other a woman whose mother apparently never taught her modesty.

And don't even remind me of what I learned of William's... _history _too. I'm... intrigued to say the least. Also a bit jealous – that's been happening too. I've been... more concerned about my appearance though since, well, accepting that I'm attracted to William. An evil little voice in my head, that sounds suspiciously like the witch, spouts concerns over whether William finds me... attractive too. I am an elf. I know human men can find us attractive, but I don't know if he's... attracted to elves. He's complimented me a few times, has said I'm beautiful, but... the doubts are still there. Seriously such a girl lately. William makes me feel like a girl, and not a fucking warrior. Is that terrible?

Oh. I'm brooding. I see the Orlesian look over at me with concern. She can shove it. I'm just having a moment for Maker's sake.

* * *

"Shiloh?" I look up from the pot of rabbit stew I'm preparing for dinner to see the Orlesian standing over me. What the sod does she want? She takes a seat beside me and says, "You seem distracted lately."

How very astute. I just snort in reply and dump the roughly chopped wild mushrooms I had just finished with in the pot. No one else is around – William's attempting to set up his tent (which I'll probably have to help him with later), Ward is playing with Sandal with Bodahn supervising, the witch is off by herself, Oghren's drinking (I think all he brought with him was ale from Orzammar), and Alistair is on watch – currently doing a lap around the camp's perimeter.

When I don't reply, she continues, "I'm here if you need someone to talk to. I'm still considered a Sister of the Chantry – I can promise that whatever you say will be kept in the highest confidence."

I squint my eyes at her. Can you even trust a sodding Orlesian? Normally when I'm this troubled, concerned more like, I talk to Shianni or one of my friends. They're not around though. They're far away. This Orlesian... "Will you?" Why am I even considering this? Maker help me.

"Keep your words in confidence? Why of course! I am still sworn on my vows."

I stir the stew before looking at her. Gah! I can't keep letting my silly concerns get the better of me. I... need someone to talk to. Journal won't be helping here. Damn. "You must promise."

"I do. I promise you Shiloh."

I sigh and scoot closer to her. Don't want anyone overhearing now. "I..." Dammit! I'm blushing. "_Like _William." I bite my lip (silly nervous habit) and look away once I've said the words. A weird nervous, but warm feeling spreads through me though – I've _said it_!

"Romantically?"

I nod. I still can't look at her – such a girly coward right now. She puts a hand on my shoulder briefly. "And you are concerned he does not reciprocate?"

I look up at her timidly (girl!) and scoot even closer. "I-I-I think he likes me." I whisper. "I... heard him say that he thinks I'm beautiful, when he thought I was sleeping. But..."

She frowns a little and scoots closer too, "But you still doubt." She gives me a small smile. "I do not think you have any reason to worry."

I frown. A lot. "But every time I try... he thinks I'm teasing or joking or some shit." I have tried to flirt with him _several _sodding times. The shem can't take a hint! And I learned how to flirt from pirates! Not the most subtle bunch there. Maybe he doesn't like me because I'm an elf? Oh that would be so terrible.

"You have tried being forward with him?"

I nod, "Without fucking spelling it out." I sigh. There's one thing though... "H-he. I also heard him say something like, 'who would look twice at a mage?' Does that have something to do with it?" Does he have confidence issues too? Not that I have confidence issues or anything...

She frowns again and leans more towards me, "Mages... are generally scorned by the populace. Many fear magic, and therefore fear mages. The more devout point to magic as a sin in the eyes of the Maker."

I furrow my brow, "Children have magic. How do children sin?" I shake my head. This conversation isn't about Andraste now. "I don't fear magic." I'm not the most religious, remember? And William is the first mage I've ever met. I have about _this_much knowledge on magic (I'm holding my fingers barely apart in my mind).

"William expects people to view mages the same way. Just like I'm sure you expect people to treat you the same way due to your elven heritage, and yet no one here has thought ill of you for your ancestry."

Well that... sorta makes sense. "He's worried I don't like him because he's a mage... just like- just like I'm worried he doesn't like me because I'm an elf." It's not a question. That's got to be it.

"He likes you romantically, of that I am sure." I tilt my head at her slightly. I'm missing something here... "Just trust me Shiloh – I'm certain it will work out in the end, no?"

* * *

I'm not given a chance to test out the Orlesian's theory that night – or now. As there's currently a shem woman crying into my gambeson.

"Please - you have to help me! The darkspawn attacked our caravans... they're all dead... I ran for my life!" Odd. I don't feel any darkspawn thrums – only Alistair, William, and Ward. Could be a small group though... Maybe they've already run off while this shem was running?

"Point us toward them." Either way – something led this shem here, and she's not splattered with blood for nothing. I'll take my chances with Holly in hand. I put on my helmet (because I don't have to wear the thing all the time) and pull Holly into my grasp before the shem woman says,

"It's not too far... I can show you."

She brings us to her downed caravan with bodies strewn about – apparently something happened, but not what we were all fucking led to believe. The 'bodies' get up – they're all armed and armored, and the sodding shem woman helps an elven man up with a hand. Obvious leader there.

The elf smirks and shouts, "The Grey Wardens die here!" They know we're Wardens, and it's an ambush – that means assassins! Oh. I am _so very _pissed right now. There a sodding Blight and we get assassins after us. Didn't I wish for assassins to appear at the royal ball? Huh. Guess my wish got answered, just a little late.

But there's one shem woman that deserves a world of pain right there. I grit my teeth and shout, "Gut that bitch!" I want the sodding leader, even though that shem woman is seriously deserving. Alistair moves forward, apparently as eager as me, and... the fucking shem shot lightening at him! The shem is a mage!

I go to gut the bitch myself, but William shouts out, "I'll deal with her!" Good. I have a leader to take out anyway. The leader has the nerve to smile as I charge him. Your leather armor isn't going to withstand Holly now. I swing Holly in a downwards arch, slicing quickly through the air with the strength developed by a berserker and Grey Warden. He blocks my blade with his long-daggers crossed in an 'x', pushing back just enough to twist his body out from beneath my blade. I swing Holly as if I'm chopping wood (quicker due to the augmented strength), and hit the taller elf hard in his shoulder with the flat of her blade. He grunts, something cracked, and retaliates with a swipe at my less protected elbow – which totally didn't do a sodding damned thing to me. Fucking arsehole assassin though. Fucking try to kill us! I surprise him by stepping in close, heedless of his blades, as I turn Holly about in my grasp – hitting her pommel in the side of the assassin's head with a resounding _crack!_Wasn't expecting that, now were ya? He falls to the dirt like a dropped stone. He was quite fast – but I'm sodding angry as all the Void. These cock-suckers will all fall by my blade!

I hear the twang of an arrow glancing off the side of my commander's helm – they were aiming for the slit in my helmet for my eyes! I'll show them just what they can do with those arrows! Red seeps further into my vision as I run up an embankment towards the archers' vantage point, with Oghren joining me on my ascent just moments later. I hear a metallic snap, then several more just shortly after. As I charge there's clawtraps attaching themselves to my silverite grieves, but I don't give a sideways fuck about them – there's more sodders with daggers thinking they can take me! Ha! This is what happens when you attack a fucking Grey Warden!

I behead one with a thorough and efficient sweep of my blade to see the other assassins turn tail.

"Fucking cowards! Get back here and fight!" I charge after them, but before I can get to them several burst into flames, convulse with lightening, or get littered with arrows like living pincushions. Fuck me – I wanted to gut them!

I loose a long breath as I sheathe Holly – all our enemies taken care of for the moment, and look down to see my legs covered in traps and wire. Can't feel a thing. These are some damned nice grieves and heavy boots (bronto hide – it's really nice).

"Healing berserkers?" My eyes briefly flicker over towards William as the rage bubbles out of my system. I don't answer and I bend over to pry a clawtrap off of my leg and rip wire off in the process. Oh, I'm good. All the sodders are dead – and apparently didn't expect we'd be so well equipped judging by their crappy traps.

I fling the last shitty trap away from me as I hear a distinctive voice groan and say, "I feared I should wake up dead. If I woke up at all." Sodding shit! I thought I finished off the leader! He should be dead with that crack to his skull. My eyes flicker over towards Alistair and William standing close by. William has a look of surprise on his face. Did William accidentally heal the enemy? Sodding Void.

"Tie him up." I say to no one in particular. If he's alive – might as well use him to get information. I can kill him later. The Orlesian fetches rope and ties the partly healed assassin tightly with his arms behind his back. His head is hanging in agony as I step closer to him, my hand on my belt-knife after I remove my helm and tuck it under my arm (as it's sodding difficult to talk without yelling with the thing on), and say, "Now - whoever you are - you're not only going to tell us what the fuck you're doing here trying to kill us. But you'll tell us how you found us and how you know who we are." Lots of curious things to learn about.

He groans again and blinks up at me. "Well, to your first question mi bonita," the sod? "I am an assassin – an Antivan Crow. Assassins assassinate people – as per my contract to kill three Grey Wardens, which is why I am here. To fulfill that contract. Although if I had known one was a deadly goddess such as yourself, I may have reconsidered." I heard a snort, or maybe a choke behind me, "My name is Zevran Arainai – Zev to my friends."

"I didn't ask for your name," I grumble. "I've heard of the Crows." I say – pirates and their stories. Many frequently make port in Antiva. "Who ordered the contract?"

"A rather grumbly fellow – I didn't catch his name. A nobleman in the capitol, I believe his name was Howe, recruited me for the nobleman's use."

"Howe wasn't at Ostagar," I hear Alistair say. I look briefly towards him as he continues, "But it is well know that he is an associate of Loghain's."

My eyes narrow and my hand clenches on my helm. Loghain's men attacked the others in Lothering – they also attacked William and Alistair at the gates to Orzammar. "I'm going to fucking gut that shem," I snarl and look back at the assassin at my feet.

"You didn't answer all of my questions – how did you find us?"

He nods his head in the direction of one of his larger belt pouches, "I was informed that one of the Wardens was a mage, and that this vial of blood could lead me to him."

I wave my hand at the Orlesian standing behind the Antivan to fish what he speaks of out of his pocket. A vial glowing red is removed and I hear from just behind me an exclamation in William's voice, "What?! That's... a phylactery of my blood! Duncan destroyed mine in Denerim."

"That vial of blood," the Antivan interjects. "I picked up in Starkhaven before making port in Ferelden."

William steps forward some, "They kept a phylactery of my blood before I was transferred?"

Obviously no one can answer that, so I look towards the healer. "You want to destroy this one?"

"Aye. Fucking..." He continues to mutter under his breath as he snatches the vial from Leliana smashing it on the ground and further crushing the glass with his boot. He asks Morrigan to set it aflame, and oddly the witch does so quickly. I guess mages don't like to see other's 'leashed' as William had told me. I don't sodding like it either. But that's one problem taken care of. There's still another,

"I will give you a moment to speak your final prayers, assassin, before I end your life."

"Wait!" William puts a hand on my arm to stay my knife, and I look at him questioningly, "You're not really going to kill him, are you lass? After he gave us all this information, should we not return the gesture in kind? Set him free?"

I furrow my brow at him and hear Alistair say, "He tried to kill us first! He's an assassin!"

"He could try to kill us again, and he could tell Loghain our whereabouts," I add.

"If I may," the accented voice of the assassin cuts in. "I have a proposal you may be interested in Wardens. I propose that I stay with your lot and help you fight the darkspawn, sí? If I am with you, I cannot tell anyone your location, and I get to live. See the thing is, I like living. Even if I were to betray your trust and kill you later, the Crows would still kill me for failing the contract the first time. But if I ally myself with people who would give the Crows pause – such as yourselves, the masters may not seek my blood."

"How can we even believe what he's saying?" Alistair asks when he sees William nodding his head in acceptance of the assassin's words. But I answer him,

"The Crows do kill for failed contracts," I recall. My cousin Llars was... involved with a Crow who had failed to kill his target.

"How do you know that?" Alistair asks.

"Not now Alistair," I huff and look at the assassin. "You would kill darkspawn and you would swear an oath of loyalty to us?" I know how the northern countries view sworn oaths – they would not scorn their honor or the Maker for backing on an oath. For rather questionably moral people – the northerners are very religious and duty bound. "And how would you be useful against the darkspawn? We defeated your lot here quite easily."

"I say enough with this pointless prattle," the witch sounds out. "Just kill the assassin and be done with it."

"I'd have ta agree Wardens." Oghren grumbles. "We kill assassins back home."

The assassin speaks up, "You are far more skilled than I was led to believe – and I do not believe the darkspawn require the same approach. I am quite skilled at traps, poisons, and picking locks. I'm sure you could find use of me – shining boots, sharpening weapons, even... warm your bed if you so desire." That last part was said with more than a little innuendo. Not interested bud. All ready have my eye on someone. I'm used to flirting from the pirates though. It doesn't bother me. He continues, "As for my oath – I would swear on my word and what honor I have as a Crow to assist you Wardens until a time as you no longer wish my services."

"I say we show the lad some kindness," William says as he removes his hand from my arm. Oh. I didn't even know he was still holding it. "We need all the allies we can get in this."

Fuck... William – I don't think I could disagree with him. And the assassin made some good points. I also may have a soft spot for his situation – I _know _all about the Crows from several pirates' stories (especially my cousin). If we don't kill him here, he _will _die later. His life is forfeit – he would be loyal to us as he essentially has no other options. Death or join us. I know what I would choose were I him.

"Fine," I sigh. "You may join us... Zevran."

William quickly moves to finish up healing the assassin and Alistair cries out, "What! We're letting the assassin join us? Well – if we ever needed a sign that we were desperate, this is it."

I roll my eyes, and Leliana removes the binds holding the assassin as William finishes healing him, "I think it is a good idea – redemption in such a noble cause."

"Really?" Zevran looks up at her, "I didn't realize there was such kindness and beauty amongst companions."

"Or maybe not."

I snort and the assassin stands as he crosses an arm across his chest and bows his head to me. "I hereby swear an oath of loyalty and service to you Wardens – my blade is yours until a time that you deem it not needed."

I nod. "I am Commander Shiloh Tabris, these are the Wardens William and Alistair," I say as I gesture to them. "My mabari Ward," he barks happily. "Our companions Oghren," he grunts. "Leliana and the wi- Morrigan."

* * *

I had agreed to let the assassin keep his daggers – in case of wolves or darkspawn. Of which, I'm pretty damned glad I did. Not long after leaving the ambush site were we set upon by wolves. Apparently the freshly slain bodies of Zevran's former comrades-in-arms drew them in our direction.

I charge into the thick of them, to see Ward bound past me and tackle one of his canine-cousins with vicious bites and growls. I clear a space in front of me with a threatening swipe of Holly, and yell out, "Orlesian – protect the mages!" She agrees readily as she looses arrow after arrow into the angered pack of animals attacking us. "Alistair – protect the cart!" Don't need these Blighters chewing on Bodahn or Sandal now.

I fell a wolf as he lunges for me, and notice a fair-haired blur dash past me and disappear into a shadow, only to reappear as a glint and flash of silver and a spray of blood. He's quicker against these animals than he was me – perhaps he just didn't know how to properly fight a woman in heavy armor with a big sword. Or a berserker. Either way.

Right – wolves. I sweep down cutting into the spine of an ambitious one and look up in time to see chain lightning from William stunning those nearby. As I've mentioned before, I don't like killing hungry animals – but they're thinking I'm the food. That's not a good idea. I push all thoughts aside and let me be taken by the pulse of my anger and the desire to slay those that would harm me and my companions. The fight is quick after that point – Oghren joined me in rage and the witch changed her form into a mass of wasps. We're all efficient in working together after the mess that was the Deep Roads – even Zevran and his daggers fit right in.

* * *

About two days out after we've dealt with the wolves, we come across the beginnings of the forest we had set out for in our search for the Dalish. It's felt as if I was back at the Hogshead in Denerim with the way Zevran has been flirting with _everyone –_ been sodding amusing too. Especially with Oghren. I'm laughing on the inside thinking of the dwarf challenging to fight the elf for propositioning him. I had to break that up though – the dwarf didn't take well to that. With all his attentions, and calming the ires of my companions – I haven't yet had a chance to properly use the Orlesian's advice she offered me on William. Zevran's currently doing enough flirting for ten people. Antivans are rather... free with their affections. There's Antivans that join up with Rivaini pirate crews – and it's always a treat to watch them in action at the Hogshead. Not that I people watch or anything... But – in just the short bit of time that Zevran has been tagging along with us, I think he's propositioned every one of us. Except for Bodahn, thank the Maker. I don't even want to think of that.

Alistair still grumbles about him being with us, the witch too, but I don't sodding care. I understand and I've seen the benefits – all that matters. What you get for agreeing to me being leader _senior _Grey Warden. No... That's mean. But – if Alistair was leader, I'm not sure we'd get anything worthwhile done. We'd probably still be trying to get the dwarven troops.

The Orlesian managed to bring back a few wood pigeon from a hunt with Ward, and I reconstitute the last of the dried potatoes we picked up from a trading caravan a few days back over the heat of our fire before adding garlic I found in the woods and mushrooms. I help her clean the animals before chopping the meat into cubes and adding it to the pot with the intentions of making a soup of sorts. Wish I had flower – I'd make dumplings. It'd almost be chicken and dumplings... I actually miss my father's crappy kitchen. That's different. And a bit sad.

"How did you learn to cook?" I look up – oh Alistair. He's been so concerned with the Antivan poisoning our food, so he's been hovering lately as I cook. I might have to tell him off soon.

"Adda," I still answer him anyway. He's a friend. And... he looks confused. Shems don't know elvish – ugh. "My father."

"Oh," he drums his fingers on his thighs. "The only thing I can cook decently is lamb and pea stew. I learned from this Chantry Sister – Sister Agatha while I was on kitchen duty. Just watching though. I wasn't allowed to cook."

I snort, "I'm fine doing the cooking."

"I didn't mean to say I'll do the cooking," he looks slightly panicked. "You seem to enjoy it, and you get less... growly after."

I raise a brow, holding onto the spoon I use to stir (ready to throw it more like). "'Growly'?"

"Ah – you scowl less. You actually look... happy."

I roll my eyes and set down the spoon. "I've always liked to cook," I narrow my eyes at him. "Don't go well spreading that around."

He puts his hands up in a surrendering motion, "It'll be our secret." That reminds me though – I didn't always like to cook.

* * *

_"Shiloh," Adda groans. I blink my eyes up at him quite confused – my small hands still in the dough. "Bread isn't meat – we're not butchering it."_

_I look down at the oblong ball beneath my hands. "I'm doing the same thing!" I exclaim and point at the ball of dough in my father's dried hands._

_"No dear – you're not." He sighs. "Watch me again."_

_"I've watched!" I exclaim again and stand up abruptly. "I'm not doing it anymore!"_

_I storm to my shared room without a second glance, as I throw the curtain separating it from the rest of the house harshly. I sit on my bed with a huff and fold my floury hands across my chest. Adda's mean, I think bitterly. He said I was old enough to learn how to cook – but he keeps saying I'm doing it wrong! I'm not!_

_A few minutes go by and I see Adda's face peer from behind the curtain. "Shiloh sweetie – can I talk to you?"_

_I look up at him and pout. He doesn't call me 'sweetie' much anymore – he must really want to talk. I can't... be mad at Adda. "...Okay."_

_He smiles and sits beside me on the bed. "I'm sorry for making you upset," he starts. "I didn't mean to – it's just... cooking is important to me. I learned from my mother, and I want you to learn too."_

_I blow a piece of loose hair out of my face, and look at Adda curiously – my anger quickly ebbing away. I've never really been a bratty child or anything. I'm hardly ever upset for long. "Why?" I ask him._

_"Cooking requires patience, perfection, and precision. That's what my mamae would say. They are all important for when you grow. When you find your place in the world. Those are virtues I'd like for you to have. If you practice – I'm sure they'll come about."_

* * *

I'm trying Adda. I think I've got the precision part down, but... maybe not so much the talent of patience. Perfection – I try. My father's lessons were few and far between – but I try to uphold them too. I've always taken my parent's lessons to heart. They tried to teach me as much as they could about the world – about myself.

Alistair and I hear a sudden crashing sound, and both look over to see Oghren literally fall into his tent. On top. Sodding drunk. The dwarf dusts himself off and ambles towards us, probably because he heard Alistair snicker. He's not the most quiet or subtle.

"Hey – pike-twirler what're you laughing at?" He sways on his feet and I fight the urge to sigh.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" That's a stupid question to ask him Alistair – the dwarf is always drunk.

"Eh? We're ya asking me a question? That didn't sound like a question." He sits heavily on the ground beside us. Don't touch the food – it's not done yet. I'll hurt you.

"How in the Maker's name are you always drunk? Do we even have that much alcohol with us?"

A big smile crosses the dwarf's face, "Jealous, huh?" He belly laughs and falls over. He's still conscious – not drunk enough then.

"I do not think anyone would be jealous of the stench of your drink, my dwarven friend." The assassin joins our conversation, and I see Alistair tense. Arg – no fighting. You'll spill my stew and I'll get really, really pissed.

"You're all just... jealous." My fellow berserker murmurs. I guess he's falling asleep. "Jealous sodding nug-" His sentence ended in a snore. Dammit – I can smell him. Someone put him in his tent!

"Why would the Crows send you Zevran?" What's going on? I was contemplating how to move a smelly dwarf without touching him.

"Why should they not have?" The Antivan retorts. Here we go _again_.

"You don't seem the best at what you do. I've seen you fight."

I sigh and grumble, "Don't kill each other – dinner's not done."

They actually _don't _kill each other, and dinner is... mildly peaceful. Until Ward decides to wander to Morrigan's camp and share his dinner of the left over carcasses with the witch. Judging by the sounds of her shouts and curses, she did not appreciate the gesture. He's done that with a rabbit corpse... twice before. Well... I better fetch my dog. This should be pleasant.

* * *

I manage to get Ward away from the witch before she could set the mabari on fire – and if she had, I'd have kicked her arse. I've 'locked' him in my tent. Why can't he make my life easier and just... not harass the witch? It's rather funny, I'll admit – but nearly every night? No. That's not funny anymore. It's just causing me a headache. I near the campfire in time to hear William say, "But what of your background? Your... tattoos - are they Dalish? I'd heard the Dalish tattoo their faces." Who's he talking to? The Antivan? Huh. I inch closer to listen. I'm not eavesdropping! I'm just listening.

"Ah, no - these are markings of a Crow. Although my mother was Dalish, or so I was told." Interesting. There weren't any Dalish in Denerim, but I've heard of them (one or two) at other alienages – like Highever. Although why a Dalish would ever want to live in an alienage – flames if I know.

"What do you mean?" William questions the assassin. He likes to ask questions, doesn't he?

"My mother died in childbirth - my first victim as it were. What I know of her I was told by the people who raised me - whores of an Antivan brothel." Aw. That's kind of sad. Kind of fucked up more so. But that happens to a lot of elven children. Many are parentless for one reason or another. Soris' mother died in childbirth too, and he was raised partly by his father and my parents (his father was a smuggler – trained to use a sword and shield). When his father died on a job, my parents took him in. Shianni's parents both died in a riot (that happens sometimes. When the human lords want to make a point. Many elves die in the riots). We took her in too, as both Soris and Shianni's fathers were brothers with my father.

"Ah... A brothel?" Oh. I was so not paying attention.

"Sí - my mother was a whore you see. What of you? I am not familiar with magical families." Ah. Plenty of elven whores – another little fact of alienage life.

"I was taken away from my parents when my abilities manifested - my father was a Starkhaven infantry man and my mother... she liked to bake." What? How's he know that? He's lost his memories!

"Are you sure about that?" Dammit! Why'd I ask that?! He doesn't know I read his journal!

"If you would excuse me Zevran... I need to have some words with Shiloh." Shit!

"Sí, take all the time you wish - I shall see if the mabari will stop trying to get into my pack." What? The mabari got out of the tent. Ugh. But... William's walking towards me! Shit again!

"Shiloh," oh no... William sounds pissed! Has William _ever _sounded pissed? "I need to speak to you." Oh crap on a mabari – he so figured out that I read his journal. I was obvious wasn't I? That wasn't very... subtle.

I swallow roughly, "okay..." Holy Maker – he's going to hate me. I betrayed his trust, and he's going to hate me. He's angry! The nicest shem I've ever known is angry – at me! Shitty shit. This is shit! I hate me.

I follow him into his tent, and he sits on his bedroll with a huff. Not having much room in his tent, despite the fact that I can stand in it, I sit beside him tentatively hoping my cooperation would help to calm him down.

He looks at me from the corner of his eyes, "You read my journal." Oh I am so _screwed_. He rakes a hand through the top of his tied hair. "I gathered that much now. So how much?" He asks me.

Oh, I know I must look miserable right now – but not nearly as troubled as he does. I've never seen him look so out of sorts... So vulnerable. Oh sweet Andraste – I've taken advantage of his trust. I really, really hate me.

I look down at my lap, intertwining my fingers together. "Enough." I read a crap-load. I look up at him from beside me – he still looks the same. Maybe... "Can I... ask you a question?"

He smirks faintly. Oh dear Maker, so he doesn't hate me. Maybe. "That's a question in itself." He sighs and shakes his head as if clearing his thoughts, "Go ahead though. I might as well tell someone."

William trusts me... Oh I seriously hate me. But... There's something that's been bothering me. Something I don't understand and occasionally think about (other than his boots). "What happened? You lost your memories – twice!" What the Void does that?!

He frowns slightly and meets my gaze. "Truthfully – I have no idea. I gather I was beaten within an inch of my life, and was left either with slight brain damage or I repressed the memories. The second time..." He rubs the side of his face. "Shit you read a lot. I don't know. I was told I fell down the steps in the tower. They did a ritual called inter-Fade traveling. And I _do _have some memories. I can remember what my father looked like – and him trying to teach me how to shoot a bow at five years old. I have one memory of my mother and I don't remember her voice at all. I remember the tartans. Burning down a merchant stall, and being taken to the Tower in Starkhaven." He purses his lips, "strangely enough – I remember being on a boat and coming to Kinloch Hold. Nothing between the ages of six and fourteen. Those eight years are a mystery to me. Before that – only the memories I've just listed."

Holy sweet Andraste and all the Chantries in Thedas! Oh my gosh! That is... terrible! So sodding fucking... I don't even know how express the feelings going on right now. My eyes are large and I can feel the warring emotions tugging on my face – wanting to gut whoever the fuck beat him (again) and hug the flaming life out of him. I settle for a quiet (as if I'll talk any louder I think something will break), "I'm sorry." The feeling that seems to be winning out though – I still sodding betrayed him. And he _trusts _me. He just told me all that shit!

He looks confused, "What for? It's not as if it's your fault that I have ten years of life in Kinloch Hold to live life on."

Oh that's so sodding sad, but no, that's not what I meant. "For reading your journal. I shouldn't have... I just... did though."

He scoots a little closer and meets my gaze dead-on. I can't look away. He's so... serious. "I should have told you when you told me about getting kidnapped. You shared a very close thing, and I didn't. I understand."

He thinks I read his journal _after _I told him about the kidnapping! Why's he have to be so sodding understanding? No that's not... Ugh! "You don't... I-"

Fuck it. I'm going for it. I close the distance between us easily – knocking him on his back with a soft 'umph' from the impact of my slight... tackle. I tackled him. I tackled this flaming selfless shem – who when I betrayed his trust, is nothing but understanding. William with shining gems for eyes, silky hair, and striking tattoos. I place my left hand on his cheek, the right wrapped around his neck (so totally laying on top of him), my legs outside his, and lower my lips to his without a single word. Flaming bleeding heart – makes me just want to cuddle him, protect him, and kiss him all at the same time.

And I am so very much kissing him. I've never kissed anyone before – I hope I'm doing it right... And he's kissing me back – the Orlesian was right! I owe her a hug, but first – let's keep kissing William. For sure keep kissing William. This feels... like nothing I've ever felt before. Oh. Did he just sigh? Apparently he's liking this too. His lips move against mine, his beard lightly scratching my cheeks (that actually feels really damned good), his hands come to rest on my back – and I feel... tingly all over, but especially on my lips. I push myself firmer into him, his heat radiating through our tunics, as I tangle my hands in his hair (as much as I can – it's not loose. _Damn _it's soft), but he pulls back. Get back here – I'm kissing you!

He looks up at me with wide, dark eyes as he breathes heavily (pretty sure I am too). Did I just shiver? "Shiloh? Are you-" His voice is rough (I like it – his accent is more distinct too), but I stop his talking by placing my lips back over his quickly. I _like _kissing him. Talking – no. Not now.

"Shh. Just kiss me." I slip my tongue into his mouth, and William does _not _need to be told twice to kiss.


	19. (Apollo Wings) The Bewilderment

Author note: I'm sorry loyal readers. I have arthritis aggravated ganglions in my right wrist joint and they're super painful. I may even need to get surgery. Because of this - updates might be slightly slower but don't leave us!

Let the fluff war commence!

(little aside - I changed one word to the fantastic song 'Bard Song' by Blind Guardian - I suggest you look it up on youtube and say darkspawn when they say hobbit - it makes me giggle everytime)

* * *

**William Amell **

I don't know why, but the assassin didn't seem to disarm me. In fact - he was almost the least 'scary' assassin I could imagine. Especially with all the innuendos and the near constant stream of flirting. I had to spell it out that I am not interested and Zevran pouted quite a bit to that... but he seemed amicable enough.

But this means a new entry in my journal about yet more traveling companions. So I was going to have to do my usual questioning. Hopefully, he wouldn't mind too much so.

We'd set up camp for the day and had just started to enter the forest - it kept the cold wind at bay so no complaints there from anyone. And so I found myself after a meal of wood pigeon, wild garlic, mushrooms and tatties (we had some supplies but most food had to be caught now due to the nonavailability of ready supplies). Shiloh I believe - could make nearly anything taste amazing. If given run of some kitchens I can't imagine what she'd manage.

Ah Shiloh... I don't know why but she's taken it upon herself to flirt every so often. Not subtly mind you. I know she's teasing. I told her as much. Her face almost dropped when I'd said it and I'd felt terrible about it for ages.

But - I now have nothing to do. Zevran was sharpening his long daggers, a concession that if we encounter darkspawn or wolves and such that we're not protecting him and he fights alongside us. It's not like Morrigan or myself couldn't zap him into a bloody pulp with just a thought even unarmed anyway - so I suppose that's a back-up plan if he decides to turn on us.

"Zevran... would we be able to talk a while?" I settled on the log he was seated on and he sheathed his daggers on his back holsters.

"Ah, why not? So is there anything in particular you wish to talk about?" Good question. I have no idea.

"How about you tell me how you came to be an assassin?" I tried. That's a good question. I don't assume you wake up one day and say 'I want to be an assassin' and just become one. There has to be something to it.

"A sad tale of slavery and teaching scrappy elven boys how to use daggers." He sighed. "I was young and auctioned off, merely skin and bones. They say I was bought for a good price - but it was the Crows that bought me. They became my family of a sorts and trained me up to the awesome assassin you see before you." He waved a hand over himself melodramatically. Interesting... so he was made to be an assassin.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Enjoyment is a vague concept. I lived and I lived well. Being an assassin in Antiva is a position of power. You can have as many men or women you desire, respect regardless of background and is it not true that some people need to die? I was the sword in the game of life and death. But dead is dead regardless of how it comes about. You could do it in vindictive cruelty or slip the person into death before they knew. There was an art in it. So perhaps I enjoyed it." That was rather philosophical. Must make a note that Zevran is highly intelligent, and was sold to the Crows at a young age.

"Hmmm. But what of your background? Your... tattoos - are they Dalish? I'd heard the Dalish tattoo their faces." Which is true. Some apprentices had managed to find the Dalish before being dragged back to the circle. They always said the Dalish had tattoos no matter how many times the story changed.

"Ah, no - these are markings of a Crow. Although my mother was Dalish, or so I was told." That sounds vaguely familiar to myself. I doubt Zevran had what happened to me happen to him. That was a confusing thought.

"What do you mean?" I do need to clarify this and Zevran doesn't seem to be tiring of my questions. That's good.

"My mother died in childbirth - my first victim as it were. What I know of her I was told by the people who raised me - whores of an Antivan brothel." Huh? So his mother was Dalish and he was brought up in a brothel. What a life. You could end up very confused by a life like that I would suspect. And yet he seemed so nonchalant about the whole of it. I suppose he's had however old he is to have gotten used to the facts but still...

"Ah... A brothel?" Playing the dumb card. But how did a Dalish woman end up in a brothel?

"Si - my mother was a whore you see. What of you? I am not familiar with magical families." Oh - don't ask me questions about me. I'm boring honest.

"I was taken away from my parents when my abilities manifested - my father was a Starkhaven infantry man and my mother... she liked to  
bake." That's fairly good for me - I should pat myself on the back for that. It almost sounded true.

"Are you sure about that?" I looked over to the new member of our little conversation... Shiloh? Why is she asking? I haven't said anything to her - the only way she'd know about anything when it comes to my family would be either the Hawke family telling her so she'd know if my mother happened to hate baking or my father was a pacifist. Which I doubt because what would be the point of telling a stranger about your heritage? She must have... ah bollocks. Shiloh has read my journal. She has to have. This'll be an interesting conversation.

"If you would excuse me Zevran... I need to have some words with Shiloh."

"Si, take all the time you wish - I shall see if the mabari will stop trying to get into my pack."

I walked over to where the ginger haired leader of all of us three Grey Wardens had flitted to. "Shiloh. I need to speak to you." She looked panicked a moment.

"Okay." Now that sounded like guilty resignation. I gestured to my tent and opened the flaps to let us both in before thumping down onto my bedroll. The truth is going to come out of one or both of us and being in a position where I don't want to collapse would be a good idea.

I glanced over to Shiloh, seated near me and looking more guilty the longer the silence remained. "You read my journal." The silence continued where she didn't deny the statement. I'd thought correct then, I put a hand up and raked fingers through my hair. Boy oh - boy. It's going to be said. I've never had to tell anyone because everyone knew. "I gathered that much now. So how much?"

She just looked sheepishly at her fingers, intertwined on her lap and fidgeting. "Enough." She glanced upwards and stared a moment. "Can I... ask you a question?"

I can't stay mad... I can't stay mad. The edge of my mouth lifts up. "That's a question in itself." But if you asked me to jump I'm pretty sure I'd simply ask how high. I shake my head to be rid of the ridiculous thought. I'm a mage, I heal people and obliterate enemies. A walking weapon and medi-kit. Nothing more to the Grey Wardens or Shiloh - no matter how foolishly my brain seems to want to believe otherwise. "Go ahead though. I might as well tell someone."

She looks hesitant for a moment before whetting her lips and speaking. "What happened? You lost your memories – twice!" Well - she read a fair bit into my journal. It's not like I didn't when I was younger, it was the only thing I could wholly rely on. It honestly shocked me that I'd written some of the entries. But the truth is going to come out. I breath in deep and look over at her, her gaze boring into mine.

"Truthfully – I have no idea. I gather I was beaten within an inch of my life, and was left either with slight brain damage or I repressed the memories. The second time..." Or - I assume. My journal says that much, but who knows what really caused it. I woke up painfully thin, my skin a mess of scars that eventually faded a bit before I covered the worst ones with my tattoos. I really am pale enough that you wouldn't notice them from a distance. I distractedly rubbed under my cheekbone. I remember it hurting and I have no clue why - just that I must have been beaten. "Shit you read a lot. I don't know. I was told I fell down the steps in the tower." And I had bandages to prove it. "They did a ritual called inter-Fade traveling. And I do have some memories." They managed to retrieve a few but no-where near the amount they had before. They said that if it happens again I'd never be able to get them back - apparently it was more difficult the second time I lost my memories. "I can remember what my father looked like – and him trying to teach me how to shoot a bow at five years old. I have one memory of my mother and I don't remember her voice at all. I remember the tartans. Burning down a merchant stall, and being taken to the Tower in Starkhaven." That was rather a lot considering I didn't know my own name to begin with. "strangely enough – I remember being on a boat and coming to Kinloch Hold. Nothing between the ages of six and fourteen. Those eight years are a mystery to me. Before that – only the memories I've just listed."

Shiloh looks dumbfounded. It was a lot to take it. I'd lived with it for ten years now, I'm used to the whole horrid mess that it is. Other people knew and I didn't have to explain. I suppose that wasn't the easiest way to say though. But she did read my journal. Hopefully that would fully explain what she'd read. "I'm sorry."

My brow furrowed in thought. What? Why in the Void is she sorry? "What for? It's not as if it's your fault that I have ten years of life in Kinloch Hold to live life on." But I hold those memories closer because of it. Even the horrible ones with forced dancing with Wynne and Sweeney, History with Torrin and his essays, Literature and Languages with Karl. Even being put in solitary for a week when I figured out how the Tranquil are made and that templars take lyrium. I can remember those things clear as a whistle.

"For reading your journal. I shouldn't have... I just... did though." Oh... I suppose it would have come up in conversation somehow though. I'm actually slightly relieved the cat is out of the proverbial bag as it were. She just looks so sad right now though and I move closer to her, trying to discern her motives as I move. I know. "I should have told you when you told me about getting kidnapped. You shared a very close thing, and I didn't. I understand." She'd wanted to know something about me in return. It made sense.

"You don't... I-" Then I got tackled. I should have expected a hug soon. But I didn't because I'm stupid. This position is rather compromising... and why is one of her hands almost cupping my cheek? Then she really caught me off guard.

Her lips lowered onto mine, a soft touch before a slight release with a wet pucker. I met her halfway as she went to kiss me again, returning the motion. I can't help myself. I know she can't possibly mean this... kissing me. But I can't help it. I nearly tortured myself the other day imagining something so similar it hurt. I sigh into her lips. It's far better than I imagined, the warmth of her through our tunics, the way she's almost melding to me. The way my hands settle easily on the small of her back, willing her not to go - to make myself believe this isn't a very very vivid dream. The way her fingers thread into my hair. But I need to stop. I can't go back...

"Shiloh? Are you-" But she cut me off by claiming my lips again. I was going to ask her if she's sure about this... about me. My best guess would be yes.

"Shh. Just kiss me." She muttered into my lips before sliding in her tongue. I needn't have been told twice as I let myself over to the pent up tension, returning her fervency. I sat up, lips still pressed to hers and her hands cradled around my head pulling my hair out of it's tail.

"Are you s-" I was cut off again. I need to know dammit all. I managed to wrest her from me a moment. Maker's she's strong, I'm glad I have a bit of definition in my shoulders from all the staff movements and holding enemies back - nowhere else mind you but a little around my shoulders. And I never imagined I'd need to pry her away from me. Me! "Shiloh." I leveled my gaze with hers and she looked very hurt. I'm sorry! "I need to know. Are you sure? Me?"

"I've never been more sure." Then we were together again, except this time I trailed away from her lips down her chin until I was nibbling the hollow of her throat. She gasped and dug her nails into my shoulders and I groaned into her neck. Never imagined this.

"Get in there girlie!" We broke apart and looked at the canvas of the tent... we're not alone.

"Fuck off Oghren!" Shiloh untangled herself from me and poked her head out of the tent. I crawled over and stuck my head out too... to see not only Oghren smirking under that beard of his, but Leliana looking incredibly smug and Alistair the color of a radish and even Zevran holding back a snigger.

"Just why does everyone look like they're in on a big joke?" I asked - only to have them all burst into laughs.

"You two finally admitted your love! It's so romantic! Love amidst the -" Leliana was cut of by Shiloh coughing. I think I'm redder than I've ever been in my entire life, every ounce of blood has rushed to my face... which is rather good because I may have had a few awkward moments walking about camp at half-mast.

"They're rather saccharine no?" Zevran smirked. "One would think we intruded on an intimate moment between-" More coughing.

"Attraction is a fickle mistress?" Alistair grinned... huh? "You said that after you sort of said you liked Shiloh... I told Leliana and Leliana said something about Shiloh comparing your eyes to-" Leliana coughed this time with Shiloh.

"Compared my eyes to what?" I self-consciously reached up to touch my eyelid.

"Like gems!" Alistair blurted before Leliana grabbed a dagger and sent it into the dirt at his feet. Now that was a shot. Shiloh groaned.

"Yes yes... like gems." Shiloh muttered under her breath. I tackled her from the side and dragged her back into the tent.

"Gems?" I was flabbergasted. Utterly flabbergasted. "When did this happen?"

"At Tapsters... when the Orlesian made sure I didn't drown in the bath." That's when...

"That was when I told Alistair... do you think they've been plotting?" Like during that game of Never Have I and Truth or Dare and the dancing.

"Alistair isn't subtle enough." Shiloh snorted. I sighed.

"They've been doing something. Now let's get moving before they think I'm not treating you like the lady you are." I leaned forward and gently kissed her lips before slipping out of the tent - almost tripping on a tree root. How did I get here... I went into that tent a highly annoyed person and came out after Shiloh had kissed me...

"So how big?" Zevran winked at Shiloh... who I noticed had rushed out of my tent straight after me.

"I don't know thank you very much." Shiloh sniffed at the assassin. "Alistair and Leliana - you're on watch."

"Does that mean you're having an early night?" Zevran waggled his eyebrows. "Mind if I join you both?"

I think we both groaned... all we did was kiss and now we're what? It's not like we've talked about it... what do you call someone you've kissed? Albeit - very passionately?

"Let's take a little walk." Shiloh grabbed me by the elbow and started dragging. "Ward - stay." The mabari moped a bit then settled down.

"I guess you want to talk lass... about-" I suddenly felt like shit. Shiloh had decided that I'm not worth the comments... or stares. At least it's now and not when I'm emotionally divested... but still. It doesn't feel nice.

"I do. I just wanted to say." She shook her head and huffed. "You know I'm not _experienced_... it's all new for me. So if we could go slowly?" Wait... you mean? Joy unbidden rose in my chest and I stopped walking, drawing her toward me in the moonlight.

"As slowly as you need." I bent to kiss her on the nose. "I'm hardly _experienced_ myself..."

"But the game! You've done all those things!" I closed my eyes an felt the corners of my mouth lift... "What are you thinking of? Don't you dare laugh in your head!"

I opened my eyes and drew her in close. "When in the game did we say how many times or with how many people?" I couldn't help but laugh under my breath at the little show of jealousy. "Once if you really must know... and I did a few things. But this is a very new thing for me too Shiloh."

"How new?" Her eyes narrowed at me. I'm not lying, honest!

"I've never had any form of _romantic _relationship." I huffed. "But I'd like very much to have one with you. If you can see yourself falling for a mage."

"Only if you can see yourself falling for an elf." She smirked and I just bundled around her. The hug was warm and I kissed the top of her head.

"They're so cute!" The whisper caught our attention - a whisper with an Orlesian accent.

"Quit hoggin' the view. I'm only short!" Oghren growled.

"It must be so strange for you in this world my dwarven amgio... simply going to the privy must be a task in itself no?" Antivan accent.

"I'm not bloody two feet tall!" There was the sound of a scuffle. Well this had been a very 'cute' moment until three people decided to ambush our conversation.

"You stepped on my foot!" Alistair... make that four.

"Will you all leave us be for five minutes?" Shiloh sighed at their general direction.

"Andraste's flaming smalls! They heard us! Run!" Alistair... not a subtle one are you? There was a bit of rustling and the sound of four people running through the trees back to camp.

"We're never going to get a moment alone are we?" Shiloh rolled her eyes. I pursed my lips together.

"We'll just have to pretend to be rogues and run somewhere private when we want to talk." Shiloh shook her head, a small smile on those very kissable lips.

* * *

When we broke camp the next day I couldn't help but glance over at her near on every opportunity available. It was a very strange feeling... but Shiloh, one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen, had not only kissed me but wanted to be in a relationship. With me. Me!

"It must be rather sad. To not know who your parents were." Leliana was staring intently at the floor as she spoke.

"I gather most of us in this camp didn't know their parents. You... Alistair... Zevran. Only Shiloh and I'd hazard a guess that Oghren does too - knew their parents. Oh and Morrigan knows her mother." I answered, rather truthfully.

"But you had your memories taken." She near whispered. "I can't imagine waking up and not knowing..." Hang on a second. How does Leliana know all this?

"You read my journal too?" I blinked at her. Sneaky minstrel turned Chantry Sister. Is everyone out to read my writings? I'm going to get a lock and weld it to my journal.

"We could all _hear_ your conversation in the tent. Mais oui... Alistair and I read it last night. He gave me some insights into the rituals. They should have been able to give you all your memories back." She still looks very sheepish.

"Tell you what lass. Maybe something happened. I retreated into my mind before I lost my memories a second time. Sometimes I'd just like to know but other times I'm quite content to live in the moment." Where in Thedas did that come from? I know what happened in a vague sense from my own writings - but it must have been more if I could have been given all my memories back. Something someone didn't want me to know.

"When the moment is with Shiloh?" Leliana smiled. Ohhh... yes. Yes very much when moments with Shiloh happen.

"Aye." Shiloh turned her head to look at me. "Who needs memories when you can build anew with a woman by your side to make you smile when things seem at their worst?"

"At their worst?" Her eyebrows pinched upwards.

"The Blight dear." Shiloh nodded before carrying on. "So how popular is my journal about camp?"

"I've read some too! Don't understand half the crap." Oghren mumbled.

"Alas - reading of a person's past is rather boring. I prefer to make present with a person." Zevran grinned. How did that sound like an innuendo? I swear the man drips double ententes.

"I have no desire to snoop about in any of your personal affects." Morrigan sniffed. "I would think those that have would be more wary of spiking the ire of a mage."

"I was curious... as was Alistair." Leliana - don't look so sheepish. "Why did you keep it from us?"

"I don't like feeling different." I sighed. "Plus I never really had to tell anyone - people in the tower knew. How do you tell anyone something like that?" Alistair nodded along as I spoke. "Thanks for understanding."

"Everyone has some secrets." Leliana smiled weakly.

* * *

Camp was rather subdued, no more ambushes and no sign of the Dalish. I'm thinking they're not in the Forest. Who would want to be in Ferelden as soon as they knew the darkspawn and a Blight were here? But we'd found a fair bit of elfroot today and I was busying myself making salves, potions and poultices. It was quite a fortunate thing to find elfroot this late in the year. According to my skyball it was the first of Umbralis. Close to Satinalia. Had I been a Grey Warden this long? What was the date when I got conscripted... I can't even remember it seemed like a lifetime ago.

"So..." I leaned my head back into the embrace from behind, arms wrapped around my shoulders and a head rested on my right shoulder, breath ghosting over my neck. "Tired?"

"A little." I smiled as I mechanically stoppered up one of the health potions. "But always here Shiloh." The arms were moved and I felt her thrum move to sit beside me on the fallen log.

"Good." I turned and watched her watching me for a moment. "Do you think we'll find the Dalish soon?"

"Under your leadership? Without question lass." Shiloh looked like she was in between rolling her eyes and smiling at the strange compliment.

"Does anyone want to dance?" We both turned our heads to see Leliana holding her lute up and Alistair putting the dinner bowls into Bodahn's cart.

"Shiloh - would you dance with me?" I stood up and brushed the elfroot clippings off my lap, extending a hand to her. Shiloh pursed her lips to the side before taking the proffered hand.

"I would be delighted."

"Yay!" Leliana clapped her hands together and I groaned. If I ever thought Leliana was secretly trying to get Shiloh and myself _together_ it was now. Well too bad - we managed just fine to... sort of. "I know this song from the court in Orlais."

"Does it have to be Orlesian?" Shiloh looked just a wee bit pissed.

"The best songs tend to have Orlesian backgrounds - the Minuet we danced in Orzammar was Orlesian." Shiloh rolled her eyes. "But how about a Remigold? Something Ferelden and lively?"

"I can dance that one too!" Alistair's hand shot up.

"Well you can dance with Morrigan if you want to dance." I smirked - knowing full well that Alistair would grumble. He narrowed his eyes at me... what? I'm not letting you dance with Shiloh - if Leliana wasn't playing the lute I'm sure she'd dance with you. That gives me an idea. "How about you and Leliana dance and I'll play the lute?"

"You play?" Leliana stared a moment at me, as if trying to read me. "What else do we not know about this one?" She gestured a thumb at me while obviously talking to everyone else.

"I play the lute and flute, dance and speak Orlesian, Tevine, a wee bit of Nevarran... I can stitch a person back together but not clothing... and... I read a lot. Does that cover it? It's the extra-curriculars and the fact Senior Enchanter Sweeney really couldn't play the lute himself - so I had to learn if I didn't want my ears to bleed. What does everyone else have hidden away in their pasts?"

"I can also play the flute." Zevran winked. "Although a very different type of flute I'm sure. But I'm a fair hand with the regular type too. As well as being able to do a whole host of other things. Speaking Antivan - obviously, Common - I also speak Orlesian."

"Lute, cello, guitar, harpsichord, violin, harp - I can sing, cook and dance too... and..." Leliana took a deep breath. "I can also recite the whole of the Chant of Light if given enough time. It does take two weeks for an hour a day to complete though." That's a fair amount of musical instruments for our minstrel turned Chantry Sister turned companion of the Grey Wardens.

"Cooking, sewing and I can sing..." Shiloh looked at the floor. "Or - I was told I can."

"Couple duet!" Leliana smiled.

Oh no... cliche moment coming up in three, two, one... "If William knows can play the lute I'll try." Bollocks. I've been dragged into performing.

Leliana handed over the lute and I tried not to look very awkward holding the instrument. "Do you know 'The Bards Song'?" I whispered over to Shiloh. She nodded. Ah good. It a well known song in the tower but I don't know how it is elsewhere.

I fiddled with the knobs on the end of the lute, making sure it was in tune before playing - because, you just don't want a bum note when in the middle of a song now. Once satisfied I settled down on the log I'd been making my potions at and put my fingers at the right places on the neck of the fat lute. Right - I can do this. It's just like in the Tower. I'm going to play. "Want me to count you in?" I asked Shiloh.

"I know when to start singing." Shiloh winked. Oh... so many winks. I'm sure it's grit in the air.

And I started. It didn't actually sound bad. Leliana, Alistair and Zevran who had all crowded around us looked shocked. Hey - I'm obviously full of surprises.

Now you all know  
The bards and their songs  
When hours have gone by  
I'll close my eyes  
In a world far away  
We may meet again  
But now hear my song  
About the dawn of the night  
Let's sing the bards' song...

Now Shiloh - could really sing. I've been shocked blue by it. Lying about being told she could sing... she knows she can.

Alistair, Leliana and Zevran joined in for the chorus with Shiloh and I did too... I can't sing though - Maker I really can't. I make a passable tenor bass in the background so not very loudly. But it seems everyone bar Oghren knows this song. Oh and Ward... Morrigan wouldn't come near us with a dredging pole when we're in the camp.

Tomorrow will take us away  
Far from home  
No one will ever know our names  
But the bards' songs will remain  
Tomorrow will take it away  
The fear of today  
It will be gone  
Due to our magic songs...

We quietened down for the second verse and Shiloh was pink about the cheeks... embarrassed. The poor sweetie. I'll have to tell her how utterly amazing she is though - later.

There's only one song  
Left in my mind  
Tales of a brave man  
Who lived far from here  
Now the bard songs are over  
And it's time to leave  
No one should ask you for the name of the one  
Who tells the story

We all joined in again for the chorus and I think Shiloh is adoring the attention. She is rather amazing. And she likes me...

Tomorrow will take us away  
Far from home  
No one will ever know our names  
But the bards' songs will remain  
Tomorrow all will be known  
And you're not alone  
So don't be afraid  
In the dark and cold  
'Cause the bards' songs will remain  
They all will remain

In my thoughts and in my dreams  
They're always in my mind  
These songs of darkspawn, dwarves and men  
And elves  
Come close your eyes!  
You can see them, too...

We all clapped the performance. Me, Shiloh, Alistair, Oghren, Leliana and Zevran. What... we both clapped each other.

"Magnifico Wardens!" Zevran whooped. "I think more songs around the campfire are in order."

"Oh no - this was a one time performance." I passed the lute back to Leliana. "No-one else wants to hear me in the background when Shiloh's singing."

"Bollocks." Oghren grunted. "You two coulda made some a the hardest warriors in Orzammar come out and dance."

"Was there a particular reason for your song choice?" Leliana questioned.

"Minstrels and bards are the same thing aren't they?" Shiloh answered. "In memory of the bard that made us get up here and perform like monkeys."

"I'm no bard." Leliana took in a deep breath. "In Ferelden they may be the same thing but in Orlais the bards are akin to spies. And anyway - you agreed to sing and play."

"She's got us there." I sort of agreed. "You did suggest it though Leliana."

"Merde." Leliana sighed, putting her lute into her tent as she spoke. "But I believe that was enough excitement for one night no? I might turn in."

"Oghren and Alistair on watch." Shiloh gestured to the two warriors. "Leliana and Zevran second with Ward." The two rogues nodded. "I'll take third with William."

"Planning on a late night _encounter_?" Zevran purred.

"Shut it assassin." Shiloh snapped.

* * *

I woke up earlier than I should have for my watch and ended up waiting for a good half an hour with Leliana, Zevran and Ward before Shiloh slipped out of her tent. I want to know how she disarms me so much. In just a tunic and hose she looks so damned amazing. Leliana nudged the assassin and the two switched out of watch, Ward yawning and plodding past Shiloh sleepily to go into her tent. Ah - so she does let him share a bedroll with her - just not when matted through with darkspawn blood. Understandable that.

"Already awake? You'd think you were waiting for me." Shiloh smiled. Love it... not thinking about those lips on mine. Nope. We're on watch. I'm a responsible Warden. Plus - I'm pretty sure Leliana is keeping those bardic eyes on us. I'm sure she's lying about not being a bard - and if even I notice something like that she's being obvious. Vehemently denies it though.

"I might have been lass." I shrugged as nonchalant as possible. "Or it could have been darkspawn nightmares. I shan't tell though." I got an elbow to the ribs for that. Ow.

"Just tell a lady she's as keen to wake you up as a horrid monster and she'll be thrilled." Shiloh snorted.

"Eh, being a Grey Warden is a horrible distraction from lovey lasses." Ah... tackled from the side. More ow. Her hugs are incredibly powerful - more so than before. I'm going to need plate armor. I took a moment to breathe before returning the gesture, swiveling on the log I'm perched on to get Shiloh into that comfortable place under my chin. Ah... there - perfect. "I might just have to try and do both though." Blushing...

"Do both?" Shiloh snickered into my chest. She got the terrible wording too. Dammit.

"Aye - one day." I shook my head. "I didn't mean... you know - when I actually said it. I mean being a Grey Warden and erm... I can't phrase it right in my head."

"Shh." Shiloh smiled against my chest - I can feel her facial muscles move. "How about we just stay here and keep on watch."

And so watch devolved into laying on our backs and rather than watching for predators, using Warden senses in case of darkspawn, tripwires in case of other attack and watching the night sky fade into early morning. Light prickled navy giving way to pinks and oranges until a pale blue-white.

I could have stayed there forever because Shiloh had curled up to me during the comfortable silence. I never wanted to move. It was perfect.

* * *

The next day was exciting... wolves.

Not normal ones either. Ones a head taller than me, corded with muscles and sinews until they stood almost like ogres but scaled down.

Then they attacked us.

"William and Morrigan - disable them!" Shiloh shouted. "Leliana, Ward - protect the mages and the cart - everyone else - front lines!" We moved into battle ready positions, Morrigan and myself always ended up pairing in battle. But Entropy worked incredibly well with Galvanism so I'm not complaining. Shiloh had most probably figured it out - or I'd told her at some point - I really can't remember.

I summoned up the static in the air for a chain lightning spell and released it at the five gargantuan wolves - to no effect. The Maker's teeth? Alrighty then - stone you shall become. The stone in the ground responded to my call and crept up the two nearest us mages - having slipped past the three warriors and dual wielding rogue. Leliana was peppering them with arrows to almost no avail... shit... they just broke the stone casing. I readied my staff into a pike position and desperately lunged. All of a sudden Morrigan hexed them and the two were asleep on their feet.

Whelp - for a moment I'd almost thought they were immune to magic. That would have sucked. I embedded the bladed end of my staff crafted by the dwarves and tried a different technique - seeing as I had some time. I set him on fire from the inside out and it worked a treat.

The smell was disgusting - like burning hair and dog. But who's going to complain when you're not ripped apart? Me - maybe. Sensitive nose. Argh. Morrigan seemed to understand the concept of what I'd done and fire rained from the skies, through the trees without burning them and started to set the four others aflame. Go Morrigan - team member! I rushed forward when Shiloh threw all her weight into a powerful swing with Holly and merely ended up wrenching the greatsword into the wolf. The wolf was growling feral at her... oh shit. He slid forward on her blade, unheeding of the weapon and his injury and swiped at her with his horrid claws.

I managed to freeze him with a Winters Grasp in time just before the claws connected and Shiloh let go of Holly and threw a punch into him - shattering him to pieces. I never thought I'd say it - but I wish my Elemental skills were better - or even better yet - that I could control them.

I vaguely understand the workings of most magic, you learn spell theory in all of them before even learning how to conjure. But the fact remained - I'm an untrained latent Elementalist as well as a fully trained Galvanist and Spirit Healer. Joy of joys. If... and a huge if - I go back to the tower I'll have to request some books on magic, Elementalism - I'm sure all my tutors will be thrilled considering my previous hatred of the simplistic magic. It doesn't require my mana to cast so when I showed skills in Galvanism I was switched out of those lessons. It could be useful. Damn - when we get to the magi treaty I'll have to use y best pleading eyes for some books.

The next wolf was felled by Zevran raking his two daggers together down the wolf's back and tearing open lungs and other organs, blood spraying over him as arteries severed. Wolf the fourth went to Alistair and a blow straight through a wolf head with his sword - now that's a sharp sword.

Fifth wolf - without even noticing was the other wolf Morrigan had put to sleep, pincushioned with so many arrows that Leliana must have strain in her arm and a puncture wound right in the neck and Leliana was holding a bloody skinning knife that matched it, heaving for breath.

"They're immune to Galvanism." I breathed. In all the fights so far my skills had been key to defeating the monsters in our path. "Elementalism and Entropy seems to work fine though." I added in an aside to the witch's skills.

"Well they are werewolves - one would assume a certain amount of natural magic created them and so they would be immune." Morrigan drawled. Great - werewolves, and here was me hoping it was just freakishly large wolves - that walked on two feet. Didn't the stories say that man turned into werewolf during a full moon and only if cursed? Not only is it not night-time but the moon was decidedly waning gibbous last night.

"Eh! I'll slaughter 'em. Nothing's a match for the Mighty Oghren!" I wonder who slurred that? It might have been the ginger tangled beard that's limping on a twisted ankle but doesn't realize it because he's still raging. Berserker thing.

"You keep telling yourself that dwarf." Shiloh groaned. "How did everyone else fare in the fight? If we encounter more I want plans."

"I'll be stuck on healing - and attempting Elementalism, Morrigan will be the biggest magical threat." I nodded. Reports on how to fight new creatures - keep it succinct because Shiloh doesn't know much about magic - just how it can be used. Which despite my reservations, is how I view other ways and styes of fighting.

"The plate armor seems to hold nicely." Alistair motioned to his merely scratched up chestplate. "So I'd say Warriors up front."

"My skills as an assassin served me well enough." Zevran shrugged. "But the ravishing bard should switch to her daggers too."

"I am no bard." Leliana pouted. "But I shall trust your judgement. Killing things is what assassins do no?"

"Well you're all sorted then!" Shiloh smirked. "Oghren and myself up front - Zevran and Alistair flanking either side. Ward and Leliana protect the mages."

"Oh - before I forget - Oghren needs healing, does anyone else?" There were shaking heads and Oghren just blinked at me as if I was talking bollocks. "Don't look at me like that - you've twisted your ankle. I can heal you from here because there's no way I'm touching you."

"Hehehe, keep tellin' yourself that Stretch." I groaned and thought twice about healing the dwarf but nevertheless did so. I kind of need Warrior protection in these forests with my bleeding and lack of hand-to-hand skills.

* * *

The next night in camp I could swear we were being watched, heartbeats... it could have been birds but it didn't feel like it. I'm just jumpy after the werewolves though.

"Alistair offered to cook." Shiloh greeted me by the cart - loading in more health poultices and potions. I'm getting rather good at this now. I might have been a fair herbalist if I'd given much thought to it in the tower. Then again, I'd never had to really think of their practical application. "So I have a night off."

"And what do you plan on doing with your new found free time?" I asked, smiling downwards at the lass. I can think of a few things... but no, I'm going to be a gentleman and we're taking it slowly. Gentleman. Gentleman.

"I was thinking we could just sit down and talk." She blushed a little in the fading light. I will ask what she's blushing about - because it's adorable.

"Aye... your tent or mine?" Oh - the blush intensified. I'm getting worse with these slight innuendos. I figured it out! She blushes when she thinks of... oh.

Wow she thinks of dirty things often... especially around me. I'm actually blind if I didn't notice before. Damn. "How about yours?" We both started wandering over - making sure that our companions knew we were being innocent.

"Is that because you want to see the mess I've made with ink?" Because she must know that my satchel spills everywhere as soon as put down in the tent. "I've dyed two pairs of socks black by accident." And bought Bodahn out of inks so I've had to be careful with the stopper on this set. Else I'll be journal-less.

"I'll be fine. Ink never hurt anyone."

"Tell that to my socks." I pursed my lips as I laughed.

"Ah - a pre-dinner exercise to work up an appetite?" Zevran... piss off.

"Zevran - piss off." That woman - after my heart with speaking my mind. Shiloh threw open the flaps to my tent and tied them so it stayed open... oh - now my tent will be all cold. But I can do flames now. Shitty flames that just spark except the burning from the inside out thing - but still just sparks.

"So anything you particularly wanted to talk about?" I sat down on my bedroll and put an arm out for her to lean into me, so I could put an arm around her. I'm seeing the benefits of closeness. Shiloh's turning me into a hugger... me all awkward is liking hugs.

"I er... I don't know how to put it. But I'm curious." Shiloh bit her bottom lip. "You... have had _sexual_ experiences..."

"Oh." How do I even attempt this conversation? "What did you want to know?"

"Did you love her?" I'm very very awkward and I think she realizes it because I swear I tensed up.

"Very much." Shiloh looked away a moment before she broke the silence.

"And did she love you?" That's the question isn't it? Is it about my past and if I've moved on or what sort of person I am?

"No. She... used me." Shit... how to explain? "I loved her from afar for a very long time and she loved a templar from afar."

"So..." Shiloh furrowed her brow.

"So she wanted to be rid of something the templars could hold over the mages. You hear them talk about how they take the virginity of a mage, fool them into loving them and discarding them like rubbish. She wanted to be... _taken_... by someone who she knew would treat her with respect." That was difficult. Very, very difficult. Let's not repeat this conversation ever again?

"And she just asked you?"

"In the tower things happened like that. The templars control more than anything. Relationships were seen as something they could use to make sure we were submissive." And thank the Maker that I'm not there anymore. "My friend I told you about - Anders, was well known for his tendencies. He would go for anything that had a pulse. But I don't think he was ever happy."

"I see." Shiloh moved in closer, wrapping her arms around me. "Is it... good?"

"Sex? Let's see - it's gratifying in a way most things can't be... so yes. But it isn't the be all and end all of a relationship and I think I could have quite happily been without the experience." She looked puzzled. "I mean... I might have loved her but she didn't love me back. How can it be something without that mutual love?" I really am a romantic. Andraste be my witness I'd have made a fantastic woman. I could write drivel romance stories and be a success.

"I think I understand your point." Shiloh leaned upwards and kissed my cheek. "So - what do I have to compare to?"

"This is where the conversation ends." I looked down, feeling just a wee bit stern. "You're not comparing yourself to her because you are nothing like her. You're such a wonderful lass and I..." I can't say it. It's way too soon. "She wasn't. I was a stupid fool to think she'd ever love me back. I moved on eventually and I am glad I did."

"Dinner is done!" Alistair shouted. Thank the Maker and the dwarven Paragons. Not only am I hungry but I was going to dig myself into a hole with that conversation, I hurried over. "Bastardized lamb and pea stew!"

"What have you done to the cooking pot?" Shiloh blinked at the grey colored mush.

"I cooked with it?" Alistair picked up the ladle and poured out three ladles worth of it into each bowl. It doesn't look or smell appealing in the slightest.

"Is there either lamb or pea in that?" Shiloh questioned. "It smells acrid."

"It's bastardized." Alistair sniffed. "Leliana snagged a deer and found some edible mushrooms."

"So it's venison and mushroom stew?" Shiloh picked up the dropped some of the grey mush in her bowl with her spoon. "It looks and smells worse than Denerim Rabbit Stew."

"Aye... worse than Sister Yana's 'penance cakes' - which were more stale bread dipped in water and not very nice looking water anyway. No-one could dissuade her from it though and she died in agony from a water-borne illness." I lifted the spoonful of 'stew' up to my face and blew a cooling breath on it. It smells much worse up close. "I'd take the penance cakes over this though."

"Fussy! All of you!" Alistair put a hand on his hip and shook his head - not only did it break the tension in the camp about having to eat this 'lamb and pea stew' but it was rather funny. "Well next time I feel like being nice I'll just sit down and do nothing."

It still didn't mean we could leave the food. Hunger... even Leliana put on a brave face.

* * *

I'd never felt so hungry in my entire life. The food Alistair had 'cooked' was practically inedible and I'd managed to eat maybe half before taste won out over hunger. But shit - I hate this part of being a Grey Warden. I do have a few health potions running spare though...

"Shiloh - what would you say to a health potion to put a curb on the hunger?" I whispered to her, gently brushing some of her hair away from her ear. "It won't make you sated but it'll make you feel better."

"Your innuendos were better before I was starving." Shiloh groaned into her bedroll. She'd fallen asleep during her watch and instead of moving the warrior to be inside her bedroll Leliana had maneuvered her onto a bedroll and then piled on the blankets.

"Now you're delirious with hunger. One health potion and a spoon for the illustrious leader!" She giggled under her coverings as I went over to Bodahn's cart - picked up a vial of red potion and and spoon before heading back over to her and sitting on the ground next to her. "It's as bitter as the Void itself but trust me - I'm a healer."

"I reckon you're only a healer so you can say that." Shiloh shifted upwards and brought her knees up to her chest under her covers. I uncorked the potion and poured the thick liquid onto the spoon - careful not to spill it.

"I can also say it'll taste better than dinner was." Shiloh groaned at the mention of it.

"Alistair is never cooking again as long as I live. I'd rather eat the flowery Orlesian food that Leliana most probably cooks." I shook my head.

"Well this is the best thing I'll ever end up cooking so enjoy." I gestured with the spoon and Shiloh eyed the liquid a moment before a 'demon-may-care' look crossed her face and she moved forward to drink it directly from the spoon.

"Bleh!" Shiloh grimaced as she swallowed. "Oh... Yeah - it takes the hunger pangs away but bleh..."

"Aye - but who ever said anything about nice tasting things that are good for you?" I poured myself a spoonful and dutifully drank it before stoppering the bottle up again. "Good morning by the way. Camp's already broken - so we were just waiting for you to wake up." Then bold as I please I kissed her cheek and stood up , rubbing dirt off my Warden robes. "Your tent is still up so you can get dressed though. Ladies like privacy for dressing or so I'm told."

* * *

We were walking for no more than an hour before something flitted in front of us and we all took arms. Flitting things aren't good and we know there are werewolves about - and they can move bloody fast.

"Hold... we would speak with you." The accented lilt came out of the trees before the flitting thing was in front of us - a group of five or so elves. Tattooed elves. Did we stumble upon the Dalish? Lucky or what - just who we needed to speak to.

"Are you Dalish?" Shiloh put Holly back into her holster and straightened up.

"We are - so you are not welcome." The leader of the Dalish elves spoke, a blonde lass with leather armor.

"We're in search of the Dalish. We're Grey Wardens and need the Dalish troops against the Blight in accordance to an ancient treaty signed by the Dalish themselves." Shiloh paused a moment. "I am Commander Shiloh Tabris of the Grey Wardens."

"One of the elvhen leads shemlen... and a durgen'len?" The blonde tilted her head quizzically as she sizes us all up. I have no idea what she said but I figure 'an elf leads humans and something...' Is shemlen the plural of shem? I don't want to ask. The Dalish look fairly savage in appearance, as if borne of the forest and ready to kill anything that looks at them funny.

"Yes. Now if we could speak with your leader to get this sorted? There is a Blight on." Shiloh rolled her eyes. This was going to be the reaction of most people to be honest - that Shiloh was our leader. They say in the circle that we're all mages but there is a natural amount of segregation between elven and human mages. Petra and Eadric didn't care about that though - they've had eyes for only each other since their Harrowings and they were put into the Spirit Healing classes with Anders, Flora and myself. Other than those who don't care two spits either way if you're elven or human. There's four main groups.

Elven mages who think they're the best thing since sliced bread. Yes, they're more naturally disposed to magic and generally have more willpower leading to larger pools of mana. But they can be stuck up.

Human mages who think they're the best thing since sliced bread. They tend to have manifested their powers come an age when the racial bigotry of the outside world has already been imprinted into their heads.

Human mages that hate themselves - again, late manifesters. Magic is a sin blah blah blah. Good Andrastians - shite mages.

Elven mages who hate themselves - late manifesters again. They've experienced racial bigotry before 'becoming' mages and then reviled for their powers.

Basically - those who don't give two hoots either way and were young enough not to have been warped by the outside world tended to give out the proper - we're all mages, let's just get on with our existence - aura. So roughly half the mages in total.

I haven't been paying attention. We're following the Dalish elves to their leader now.

* * *

The Dalish camp was enormous, as if the trees had simply parted to allow the huge ornate carts and statues to be there, a hive of heartbeats and activity. Which was abruptly stopped to stare at us newcomers. I feel naked the way I'm being stared at. I'm obviously not - but it's a weird feeling - all eyes directed to us, dissecting us.

"Aneth ara Keeper. I bring before you a group of Grey Wardens who say they have a treaty in the face of a Blight." The blonde addressed... a mage? The leader of the Dalish is a mage? Oh, Anders would be laughing at the templars if he knew this.

"You have done as is proper lethallan. If you could leave me to speak with their leader?" The leader dismissed the blonde.

"That would be me." Shiloh stepped forward. "We have a treaty with your people in the event of-"

"Of Banalhan. A Blight. Yes. I remember signing a treaty myself." The leader spoke. "I am Keeper Zathrian and I cannot say how terrible it is that we cannot give our aide."

"You better have a good reason." Shiloh pursed her lips. Zathrian motioned for them to walk together and Shiloh beckoned us to follow after.

"Unfortunately, we are not supposed to be here. But my people have been attacked by werewolves and cursed with an infection in their blood." I stared into the distance and focused... those elves are in pain. Would Zathrian allow me to try and heal them? I don't know. "We simply haven't the warriors to give you sufficient troops and protect our own."

"William?" Huh - oh I'm being called. I hmm'ed in response. "Would you be able to get rid of their infections like at Ostagar? If... the Keeper would allow it?" Seems our thoughts run on a similar track.

"The infection is not the type simplistic magic can cure. It requires a vital ingredient." Zathrian shook his head. "I have tried myself to no avail. Each day more of my clan falls prey to this curse."

"Ingredient? I've never heard of infections that needed specific ingredients to cure other than Bloody Lung... and that's crushed elfroot, powdered ambrosia and ashen spindleweed with a pinch of weak lyrium in liquid form." I furrowed my brow. "And it's not common in Ferelden either. It's rife in Orlesian slums if the potion-making we were called upon a few years back is any hint."

I felt a hand touch my shoulder and turned to see Leliana motion her head over at the elven mage... oh. Verbal diarrhea is not good at the moment. It's pissing off Zathrian. "As I was saying. The ingredient I require is going to be difficult to get."

"We're rather good at finding things." Shiloh smirked. Like the Anvil of the Void. That was rather special. "A rare plant?"

"If only it were so simple. I require the heart of the beast that started this curse. A wolf known as Witherfang." Oh... killing things. That happens to be a forte of ours. "I have tracked the wolf to a ruined temple deep in the forest but cannot send what little hunters I have left to retrieve it in fear they too will succumb to the werewolves curse."

"If we go get Witherfang's heart - will you give us our troops?" Shiloh squared her shoulders. That's her commander thing - squaring shoulders. This should be quicker than finding the Anvil then - seeing as we have a location to get to.

"If you believe you can do this." Zathrian glanced over the whole group. "I have a map that has the location on. But it may take some time to get to."

"We're rather speedy." Shiloh shrugged. "If we can have this map we'll set off immediately. Is the terrain good enough for a cart?"

"A single cart - maybe." Zathrian took in a deep breath. "I shall retrieve the map then, Dareth shiral - may your journey be safe." Oh - we get a few translations. I like this.


	20. (Musicalrain) The Nomadic

Author Note: Reviewers and favoriters! You all deserve trophies! :D Anyway – the romance is underfoot! How are you all liking it? Lots of action in this chapter = a little less fluff. :( Seems I'm currently down a few fluff points in our War-o-fluff. Btw we're close to some serious shit happening by next update, but I don't want to give anything away. ;) - Musicalrain

P.S. You guys are getting that Shiloh's a warmonger along with a berserker, right? Just checking. :D

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

I watch as the Dalish leader's face as it pinches in annoyance over William's rambling. Apparently he doesn't think it's cute like I do. William stops himself when the Orlesian indicates the leader's face, as I see over my shoulder.

"As I was saying. The ingredient I require is going to be difficult to get." Aren't they always?

"We're rather good at finding things." Lost Anvils, lost heirs... "A rare plant?" I guess.

"If only it were so simple. I require the heart of the beast that started this curse. A wolf known as Witherfang. I have tracked the wolf to a ruined temple deep in the forest but cannot send what little hunters I have left to retrieve it in fear they too will succumb to the werewolves curse." Ah...

"If we go get Witherfang's heart - will you give us our troops?" Seems like a fair accord. Cure for troops. Reasonable enough.

"If you believe you can do this." I see his eyes flicker to the remainder of my companions. His face threatens to pinch again as he looks over the humans of my lot. Good thing I'm leading us – he may not have been so amicable were Alistair or William in charge. "I have a map that has the location on. But it may take some time to get to."

"We're rather speedy." True enough – we always walk at a brisk pace, and I'm eager to gain our troops. "If we can have this map we'll set off immediately. Is the terrain good enough for a cart?"

"A single cart – maybe. I shall retrieve the map then, Dareth shiral - may your journey be safe." Elvish! Lots of sodding elvish. I know only a little 'Keeper'.

I walk up to Bodahn and Sandal once the Keeper leaves to get his map, and ask, "Are you two comfortable going into the forest, or would you rather stay here?"

Bodahn looks up at me, his hand on his son's shoulder, "I expect this will be more excitement than me or my boy can handle. If we can set up shop here to trade, your lot may borrow our cart for your venture."

I nod, "I'll ask and see what can be done."

* * *

The leader allowed Bodahn and Sandal to stay with them (probably because they're dwarves – the Dalish just scream racists), and with the map secured in William's satchel we head to the other side of the Dalish camp towards the indicated side of the forest with Zevran manning the cart (I don't know how he knows how to drive one).

"Felas Wardens." I turn to see a the blonde haired elf that had first approached us as we neared the Dalish camp standing to the side of our group with a red-haired female elf in green ornate armor. What's this? "We wish to accompany you into the wood."

I look at them more critically – the blonde woman has a recurve bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back, a skinning knife strapped to her belt and dark revealing leathers. (What's with Dalish and the lack of clothes? I'm sure Zevran is just loving this.) A rather hefty looking satchel is strung across her chest too. The fellow ginger-haired elf is dressed in plated leaf-green armor with a full skirt, curved long-daggers strapped to her back, her chest criss-crossed with the straps of a pack that likely sat on her back. Her hair is shaven on the sides, with the long strip of remaining hair in the middle secured in a tail at the nape of her neck. Her tattoos are less extensive than the blonde's, and her expression is even more steely. What are you pissed about? They appear to truly want to travel with us. Why in the Maker's name?

"Why?" I ask them. I'm honesty curious as to why they would want to go, when, as their leader had said, many of their hunters have died. Do they have a sodding death wish? I won't be assisting any suicides here.

"My mate," the blonde speaks first. "Deygan was sent to retrieve the wolf's heart, but has not returned. I wish to know his fate." Damn that's sad. Let's not think of what I would do were I in a similar situation.

"Mamae," oh shit – the red-head is talking. "was injured when the werewolves had first attacked our people. She is lost in the wood – I wish to also know her fate."

I sigh and rub my brow. I want to help them; I do. "Your leader has forbade your people from entering the forest."

"The Keeper does not wish to loose any more hunters," the blonde says. "He trusts your lot – by Mythal I do not know why, but he seems to think your lot will fair better than we. If that is true, we would be safer with you than on our own," makes sense. "There is safety in numbers, and we are not defenseless. I am a huntress of the People and Amyrah is one of our finest warriors. We also know the wood, and can help you in your task."

I purse my lips, "Your leader won't like me taking you." The treaties – the sodding Blight is more important, sadly, then the fates of their husband and mother. That's so fucked up.

"The Keeper will understand," the blonde replies. "We are prepared for any punishment the Keeper deems necessary _after _our journey."

I squint my eyes at them for a moment, and nod. I'd do what they're doing in a heartbeat if my father or William were in danger. Shit – not that William and I are, err, shut up! I take a breath to calm myself and say, "You may join us." I point at myself. "I'm Commander Shiloh Tabris," which I've already said to the blonde, but I've yet to meet the ginger. I introduce the rest of my companions, and the blonde crosses an arm across her chest and bows her head,

"Andaran atish'an falonen," I know a little elvish, as much as any city-born elf, but damn. What she say? The end was definitely 'friends'. "I am known as Mithra daughter of Citharoh and Jethron."

The ginger mimics her actions, if a bit reluctantly, "I am Amyrah daughter of Danyla and Athras." Apparently the Dalish introduce themselves by indicating their parentage. Huh... I'm starting to ramble like William in my head. I better stop. I really don't flaming care how they introduce themselves. Really.

* * *

"I don't like this," William says as we've walked in the forest for some hours. "The Veil is thin here."

"I feel it as well," the witch interjects with a sniffle. "I would be wary of Fade creatures roaming this wood." Sodding great – as if we needed more than the faint thrum of darkspawn or the werewolves to deal with.

We were fortunate that by the time we found a suitable clearing to make camp that we had only encountered a pack of half-starved wolves and two bears. Based on the map we've obtained on these woods, it seems like it'll take several days to travel to those ruins. Which is awesome – so wanted another long venture like in Orzammar. Hey, didn't I bet William about the Dalish needing assistance before they'd honor the treaty? I am so right. Ugh.

"Thinking much lass?" I look up from the dinner I was preparing to see William hovering over me. I shrug as he sits next to me, and reaches out to tuck some of my loose hair that was threatening to fall into my eye behind my ear. His hand brushes the tip as he moves and I sigh. Does he know how sodding good that feels? Elven ears are more sensitive than a humans, or so I've heard. Well, sensitive in both hearing and feeling... Do not think about his lips on your ear. Don't do it Shiloh. Not now.

"Why did that lovely color just come to your cheeks?" He asks with laughter in his voice as he rubs my cheek lightly with the backs of his fingers. Damned blush. "Do I want to know what you're thinking about now Shiloh?"

I smirk. Tease. He hardly ever teases. Well, two can play at that game. "Nothing that's damned well to say in public." It wasn't even that dirty of a thought, but he doesn't need to know that. I lean over and whisper into his ear, my lips brushing the shell of it, "I could tell you in private." He froze up. Haha. So won. I lean over further and lightly kiss his cheek, before promptly resuming my garlic chopping.

"Seth'lin shemlen'ara." I hear a feminine voice spit, and look across camp to see the blonde huntress push the Dalish warrior off of the stump she was sitting on.

The blonde (Mithra) speaks in her distinctive voice angrily, "Dirth'din len'alas lath'din. Falonen. Asha lath shemlen'ara, asha Dalish'din." I caught some of that. Enough to be pissed with Amyrah. Good thing Mithra told her off, or I would have. For sure. Maybe with Holly. It wouldn't have been pleasant.

William obviously seeing my change in mood and where my attention has been drawn questions, "What did they say?"

I look at his shinning eyes and feel myself relax some from my budding anger. I lean closer and whisper in case the two Dalish overhear. I don't know if they know how much elvish city-born elves know. It's not much, but I can piece it together. "The warrior insulted our relationship," sod if I know what she called me. By the way Mithra reacted, it wasn't nice, "and the huntress defended us by saying that I can," she said love I'm not translating that, "be with a human if I want."

William's brows furrow. "Is there something wrong with an elf and human having a relationship?" The fuck? How's it he doesn't know something so... obvious?

I fight not to make a weird face at him as I lean back and say, "I've never known another elf to... be in a romantic relationship with a human. Most times if an elf and human show... affection to each other it's at a brothel."

"What?" He looks shocked. "Why?"

I look away. Little difficult to talk about here. "Because all children born of such a relationship are human. Elves like to keep to themselves. Not to mention most humans are huge arseholes to elves." Need I remind you of the kidnapping? No? I look up at him. "There's also the not-so-happy history between our people."

He grimaces. Apparently all my points ring true. Yay... "Would you believe that the racism in the tower is fairly minimal? Elven mages tend to be more powerful if I'm honest. But there are humans and elves who have erm... relationships in the tower. I'll assume it's worse where you haven't got the shame of being born a mage to equalize you."

"You could say that," I reply. "We're sealed off in the alienages totally at the mercy of the noble shem arse-faces. We're lucky to find work. We're lucky to have food. Heck – I liked fighting at the pits, but it was also the only work I could get without laying on my back. When Mamae was alive, her pay from the Wardens kept us from begging. Soris couldn't find a job. Shianni had to hunt for most of our meals. Adda had half-decent work so we were warm in the winters – many were found dead in their homes come spring. First Day is more of a mass funeral than a festival where I lived. Shit. For a little bit I wanted to run away to the Dalish. But I didn't, because I'm not selfish."

He blinks at me. I said a lot – that's probably shocking. Probably more shocking was that I said all that without littering it with curses or shouts. It's just something that I've... had a lot of time to adjust to – my whole sodding life. Ain't that just flaming peachy?

William puts an arm around my shoulders and tucks me against his chest and under his chin. I let him. I'm probably in need of some physical contact. Hugger here. "You're not living like that anymore Shiloh." His voice rumbles against my ear against his chest. "You have food," he points at the pot that I'm doing poorly at tending to right now. "You still fight for work," I can hear the smile in his words. "But you'll be warm in the winters – I know how to conjure flame now. And," he kisses the top of my head. "We can always share body heat." He's so totally blushing. Is it weird that I can tell without even looking at him?

I scoot even closer and wrap the arm not holding the spoon around him. "We just need a roof over our heads, and I'll be right at home."

"We have canvas."

I laugh softly and bend my head up to kiss his chin. "Canvas is perfect."

* * *

"You should not accept the shemlen as your mate," I look up from packing my tent to see the red and green figure of Amyrah standing over me. "Even the other flat-ear with the strange vallaslin would be better. At least his seed would produce elvhen."

Fuck her – she's still stuck on insulting me and William? Not even that her driving point applies to me – I can't have children now as a Warden. And what the sod-all did she refer to me and Zevran as? 'Flat-ear'?! I stand up slowly, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. Not wanting to hurt an ally – an ignorant one at that, I try for diplomacy (I know it's strange). "I don't think you have a say in who or who I don't have a relationship with. I don't recall asking for your opinion."

"Shemlen'alas. He will use you, play with you, as is the shemlen's nature."

Is she concerned, or is she just being a bitch? "Look," I take a step closer to her. "I let you here to find your mamae – I sodding suggest you remember that."

"The shemlen cannot be trusted," she spits. "You are not Dalish, but you are elvhen – you should know this. Elvhen should mate with other elvhen – not the shemlen."

I snarl – did I just growl a little? Berserkerness. Let's not get carried away, shall we? "Why don't you go fuck Zevran since you seem to like him so much?"

"My ears are burning," we both turn to see the fair-haired Antivan swagger up to us. "What's this? An argument between two fiery beauties over me? I'm flattered."

I snort and look at the Antivan, "I suggest you get her away from me, before I make her walk back to her camp in her smalls."

"Ah. As much as I would adore such a sight, I do not think that would be best. Come mi bonita, let us leave the Commander to her business, sí?"

Amyrah looks between me and the Antivan before huffing and turning to follow the assassin away from my general area. Good riddance. I toss my tent in the cart on loan from Bodahn and search for William. I find him on the edge of camp picking elfroot. I walk up to him without a second thought, and he rights himself as he hears me near (not a rogue). I stand on my toes and reach to his shoulder to pull him down a bit so I can place a quick chaste kiss on the very corner of his lips at the edge of his beard. I'm the one who had asked to take it slow – I'm not going to shove my tongue down his throat no matter how pissed I am right now.

He smiles, "Ah... Good morning to you too lass." Point proven. I hope that bitch was watching.

We both turn when we hear a rustling in the woods – there's werewolves at the edge of camp. Oh shit. Can't get distracted by mages with big boots now Shiloh.

I search for the elven archer and yell to her as I unsheathe Holly, "Arrows don't work on these fuckers!" The blonde nods and removes her skinning knife. Not going to help there.

"Mithra and Ward – protect the cart! Leliana and Amyrah – protect the mages! The rest of you – you know what to do!"

Everyone scatters to do as instructed as me and Oghren charge forward – good thing we were in the midst of packing camp and everyone's armored and ready for the day. I would hate to fight those things in a tunic and hose – not good.

But... I am helmetless. A werewolf that I had been hacking at with Holly backhands me _hard _on the side of my face. I stumble, but don't fall as the beast had been obviously intending – Mamae taught me fortitude along with my training in strength. I surprise the ugly thing with an enraged yell and cut Holly as deep as I can in its long middle. Sodding tall bastards they are. It howls in pain, and I don't miss a beat as I turn my greatsword about in my grasp quickly with rage-fueled speed and leap forwards enough to slam Holly's pommel in the front of its neck. Its windpipe collapses in a blood-leaking mess, and it falls to the ground without so much as a whimper.

I look to the enemies gaining on Alistair and the two or so breaking past we melee fighters. I hold Holly high above my head, the red of my rage leaking into my vision and causing my muscles to hum with adrenaline as I shout,

"Get over here and fight me you furry bastards! I will kill you all!" Three get on all fours and run towards me – _nice_.

I swing Holly in a wide horizontal arc, and they all stop just shy of tackling me. "Fucking scared, are ya?" I smile widely and cruelly, "Fucking try!"

Two try to swipe at me with their unnaturally long arms and the third tries to circle around me as I bash the flat of Holly into the side of one of the two to knock into the second. The third suddenly growls only for that growl to turn into a scream of pure agony as it bursts into flame. I pay it no heed as I sidestep with a twist to dodge the lunge of the beast directly to my left. I swing Holly upwards with the intention of cutting into its more vulnerable throat – Holly lands true. Love this blade. I remove her with a sickening snap, as I twist her in the beast's throat during the withdraw to widen the wound further. The werewolf claws at its throat in a futile attempt to still its life-blood as it falls to its knees.

The last of the three standing – golden in color with a nasty scar over one of its eyes snaps at me with its long jaws and sodding speaks – speaks! Are they flaming supposed to do that?! "Return to the Dalish! You will not succeed! You will not kill Witherfang!" It suddenly points its face skyward and howls. It dashes away back into the thick trees and the remaining werewolves sprint after the golden one.

I stare after the werewolves and the red seeps out of my vision. I breathe heavily to calm myself, and I look towards the two Dalish in our group and the mages (the witch seemed to know a little about these things),

"What the sod was that?!" I point Holly in their general direction. "That one spoke Common at me!"

"I don't know lass," William says as he moves to heal Oghren's wrist, as the dwarf hadn't yet put on his gauntlets.

Mithra speaks up, good she wasn't injured apparently the werewolves didn't get past the mages. "The werewolves are mindless beasts."

"T'would seem that they are not," Morrigan interjects. "Apparently they have learned the trick of language."

I rake a gauntlet through my hair. "They talk – they talk. We still have to get those troops – we still have to get that wolf's heart."

* * *

We encounter another group of werewolves after we cross a small bridge some hours later, a little bit before we decide to make camp. The forest is littered with those flaming beasts. I've assigned three people to the night watches per rotation, just in case. I take first watch with William and the Orlesian – second is with Alistair, Oghren, and Mithra and third is with Zevran, Amyrah, and the witch since those three seem to get along well enough (Alistair seems to be having problems lately with the assassin and the witch, so I'm trying to be diplomatic again). I've laid out a couple of blankets for Ward in the cart – he'll be guarding it in case some sort of critter wants to get at our supplies. That wouldn't be good.

"Where's the other elven lass? I don't see her anywhere." William questions on our walk around the perimeter, the Orlesian is sitting the camp's center during our patrol in case. I see him looking towards where the blonde elf is laying on her bedroll, as it looks like the Dalish didn't bring tents with them.

I shrug and look up at him, "It seems she took my advice to fuck Zevran. You don't hear that?" Seriously, he can't? How do humans hear anything?

He blinks at me and stops walking, "What?... You can hear – never mind. You... advised her to..."

I sigh, "It didn't happen how you're thinking it happened." Seriously, I'm the one with the dirty mind around here. "She came up to me this morning and told me, err, that... I should be with Zevran and not you, because he's an elf. I told her to fuck Zevran if she feels that way... And it seems she is."

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, before he pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. "That bitch! The gall of her... I don't even -" I couldn't help myself, I kissed him smack on the lips. Sometimes he talks too much. That wasn't even a lot, but you know.

* * *

Come morning William is practically glued to my side peppering me with all sorts of little affections, although we've both been affectionate lately, he's being even more affectionate right now. Which I whole heartily approve of. All the little touches, hair tucking, kisses to the top of my head or forehead give me plenty of reason to unabashedly stare at his arse. Hey – he's the one offering to help me pack things. The arse staring just happens naturally. I'm a terrible virgin... Huh. I didn't know someone could be a terrible virgin – apparently that's me though.

But I think William is pissed with Amyrah – which is new. I don't think I've ever seen him send so many dirty looks someone's way before. I told him the entirety of my 'conversation' with the Dalish woman after a few short kisses (no tongue – disappointing, right?) – I can't help myself around him. He's so adorably kissable when he's flustered. William apparently didn't take to being told that we shouldn't be together well. He almost got quite upset, until I kissed him right on the lips again. I didn't sodding care if the Orlesian saw us – the not-admitted bard probably watches us all the time with us not even knowing.

We start up our walking again through this damnable forest, and cross yet another bridge when a _very _familiar burning thrum pulses through my veins – darkspawn. And one's a sodding ogre! Shit!

"Archers – protect the cart! Ward and Amyrah – you have the mages!" William probably hates being put in that woman's care, but she likely has no experience against the darkspawn and I'm not eager to find out if she can take them. Guard-duty is more fit a position for her. "Oghren – you're with me on the big sodder!"

"He he he," he chuckles. "Wouldn't have it any other way girlie!"

I stare the ogre down and run for it with Holly angled threateningly to my side. The witch takes the initiative to hex the monster as William sends the very earth to ensnare the ogre's legs. Its large arms swing wildly, and I swing upwards to cut deeply into the underside of one of its forearms. It screams out in pain, and I half-consciously notice the dwarf cutting wildly into the flesh of its leg above the stone still holding it and preventing its movement. The ogre manages to catch me with the back of its hand as I try to roll out of its large swing's range. I sprawl hard onto my back, but all I feel is an increase in the beat of my heart and the sweat pooling on my forehead. I push myself to my feet and yell out ferociously at the damned darkspawn. I'll gut this son of an Archdemon shit! I charge at it in a blind rage, and the... fucker picks me up in its gigantic Blighted hand!

It squeezes, but all I do is yell and turn Holly pommel-side up and force her bladed tip into its wrist as hard as I can. I feel something warm pooling in the bottoms of my eyes (it's still flaming squeezing – not very hindered by Holly wedged in its joint as angry as it is), and my armor is digging harshly into my skin. I feel something snap with a sickening amount of pressure, either literally or figuratively I don't know, and I start to laugh manically. I tighten my grip until I can't any more on Holly and push down into its wrist with all my might – the same time a sodding huge arse bolt of lightning hits the monster frying its nerves and fizzling through my body. The last thing I see is the light blue of the sky as I'm falling weightlessly.

* * *

The first thing I feel is my long eyelashes brushing against my skin when I start to come to. So... I'm not dead. That's good. Very, very sodding good. I open my eyes, and shit! Am I blind? Why is it so dark? I go to move, but something is... wrapped around my arm? Is it broken? It doesn't hurt if it is. Oh shit – is it still there? I go to touch my right arm with my left one and in the process brush against something warm. Well, my arm's still there. The warm thing just moved. The fuck?

"Hmm?" Oh – I said that aloud. "Shiloh?"

It's... "William?"

"Shiloh!" He exclaims and moves away quickly. Was he wrapped around my arm? Asleep? What sodding time is it? "You're awake lass – how do you feel?"

"Ah... okay. Umm, why's it so dark?"

"Oh – one moment." I see him as he strikes flint to light a lamp. Apparently he still doesn't quite trust his flame making powers. His face and my surroundings come into focus, and... we're in a tent?

"Where am I? And what flaming time is it?"

He rubs the back of his neck. Oh – his hair is loose. So nice. "In your tent, and in the middle of the night." He must see the question on my face, as he scoots closer. "You almost died Shiloh. The ogre had snapped your spine. You had several ribs broken and punctured both your lungs – your pelvis was shattered... and my spell also fried your nerves a bit." He takes a big breath before he continues, "You lost consciousness, and I had Morrigan make sure you were asleep once we set camp." We set camp early? That puts us back... "I'm sure even you would've been able to feel the pain until your bones settled. The spine is a very tricky thing to heal."

I tilt my head at him and prop myself on my elbows. Everything seems to be all healed up though, so why... "And you stayed with me... to make sure I was okay?"

He looks away. "I was a... wee bit concerned. You-you almost died." Aw. William is in need of a hug.

I lean forward and pull him towards me, maybe a little roughly, and snuggle into his tunic-clad chest. He wraps his long arms around me and sets his cheek atop my head. This is so nice. He's such a caring person and he readily accepts my hugs. So nice. It also helps that he smells _really _good (elfroot, what I'm assuming is lyrium, and something just... him). And he's warm. So am I – is that a Warden thing?

Oh... I'm getting off track now. I'm in the midst of a William hug. I scoot closer as I move to sit on my knees so I can press against him firmer in a complete bear-hug, and say, "I'm all okay. I don't feel any pain."

He sighs against my hair rustling it a little. "Aye, but you weren't okay for a wee bit there lass."

"Just comes with the way I fight," I mumble in his chest. "I try to take on the biggest or the most sodders because I know I can handle it, and I don't want to see anyone get overwhelmed. I'd rather deal with the tough ones myself."

He rubs his hands along my spine, "You don't have to fight them all on your own."

"I don't," I reply. "All you are there – killing them too. That's just how Mamae taught me to fight. Go after the largest threat first and worry about the others later."

"Hmm..." He hums. "I'll admit that I don't know much about soldiery."

I pull back and look up at him, "That's because you're not a solider. You're a mage." I smile. "Just like I know squat about magic – other that it can heal and kill things."

"It does more than that," he smirks and holds up his hand allowing just a tiny bit of electricity to sit on his fingertips. He's going to tease me with that now, huh?

I shake my head and look back up at him. "Were you planning on staying?" His eyes get wide and I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. "You were asleep."

"Ah," he clears his throat. "I... had trouble setting my tent." No one else could've helped him? Or is he using that as an excuse? Cause my tent appears to be set correctly...

"You can stay, as I'm guessing you had thought you were." He looks torn, and halfway to fleeing. "We can just sleep – like we were before I woke up. Nothing else. We're taking it slow, remember?"

It takes a little bit more coercion on my part to get him to settle after extinguishing the lamp. I cuddle up to him, and it's... so nice. I fall asleep pressed against his side and happier than I have been in a long, long while.

* * *

I nuzzle my face further into my warm living pillow when I start to come to the next morning. So very much remember last night, and I _do not_ want to move. William's asleep on his back, I'm half-draped over his chest, and one of his arms is curled around my waist with his hand laying limply on my hip. No darkspawn nightmares (had mine the other night). So very much do not want to move. I am such a _terrible _virgin. And a such a girl – I kinda have the compulsion to giggle in delight while flailing my arms about. It's very sodding strange. I can't really help it when my hand starts to rub up and down his tunic along his chest. I feel like it, and he's _right there_.

I contemplate the repercussions of just lying there all day, when something grabs a hold on my moving hand and places a scratchy kiss on my wrist. I look up as William says with laughter in his voice,

"That tickles lass."

I smile broadly, head still on his chest and loose a giggle (girl!), "Couldn't help myself."

"Oh?" He raises a brow and kisses my nose by just bending his head a little. How come I didn't realize how close our faces were? "Good morning to you too Shiloh."

"Good morning William," I mumble and remove my hand from his grasp to drape across his chest. "I don't want to flaming move."

He smirks and tucks some of my hair behind my long ear (touching the tip again – he's got to know), "Wish that we could lass, but there happens to be a Blight on."

"Hate darkspawn," I mutter as I turn my head and close my eyes to nuzzle my face into the place that I've made my pillow. His long fingers card through my hair with his fingers scraping lightly along my scalp. I can't help but shiver and sigh softly – that feels _so _nice. I place a soft kiss to his chest in return.

"I should leave." Well that was sort of abrupt. I turn my head to blink up at him. "Don't want the others to think I'm not being a gentleman now."

"Fuck 'em." Did he just freeze up? Huh? He untangles himself from me gently but quickly and leaves the tent in a hurry. I poke my head out of the canvas as he leaves to see him walking a little stiffly and funny... oh. Well I didn't know! I just like to cuddle. Hmph.

Zevran and Oghren have a field day with us after we break camp. Because apparently they were both on watch when William left my tent – lucky us. And I have a flaming bitch that won't get off of me. I had left my usual spot in our procession to stand at the side of the dirt trail we've been following while Ward went to relieve himself (I can easily jog back to our group in the time I'm waiting – I'm not letting my mabari go off on his own), and the bitch decided it was a good time to, well, be a bitch.

"You insist on mating with the shemlen'alas," Amyrah says to me as she stops to stand beside me with her arms crossed over her chest. "I do not understand."

I snort, "You don't need to." This warrior really likes to stick her nose in other people's business, huh? If she keeps it up – I'll show her what she can do with said nose.

I turn partly away from her but she continues to speak to me – take a hint woman! "The flat-ear was competent and skilled. I do not understand your aversion to other elvhen."

I pinch the bridge of my nose despite my gauntlet wearing. This woman is really, really bothering me. "I'm not adverse to other elves, but other elves are not William. I'm with William – leave it at that."

She shakes her head and stalks off – finally she's taken the hint! "I do not understand. You are elvhen." Holy shit woman! Will a bear eat her please? The witch turn her into a toad? Please?

I walk back to the group after I retrieve Ward (he was chasing a squirrel – what is wrong with that dog?). "What did the lass want?" William asks me once I return.

I shrug. I don't know why she insists on pestering me. "She's still being a bitch."

William stiffens slightly, "I feel something."

"Same here," says Alistair.

"It feels unnatural, almost as if a demon has crossed the Veil," says Morrigan. It must be so... different to be able to _feel _that.

"Demons then," I say aloud. "Everyone be on guard."

We don't have to be on guard for long, as a huge sodding _tree _walks into our path. "A demon tree, a sylvan." says William. "Well that's not good."

Nope. Not good. "Let's try long range attacks first!" I order. "Blades – hold your ground."

I watch as Morrigan manages to catch the tree on fire, just as arrows and stone are shot at it. It wails (it's a sodding tree!) and sends roots rippling through the very earth to try and ensnare us. We 'blades' in front cut them down and avoid getting caught in their tendrils with quick efficient strikes, and Morrigan sends two more fireballs in its direction. A volley of arrows is shot at it, and it falls to the earth in a burning heap.

I point Holly in its direction, "Is the demon dead?"

William nods, but Morrigan answers. "The demon no longer has a hold here."

I sigh and we walk over towards the felled tree while leading the cart for the archers to remove their arrows from its... corpse, we another tree walks onto the dirt path and flaming _growls. _That one is a little more difficult to fell, as our archers are down to half their arrows. We encounter one more sodding tree, except this one actually _talks _to us.

"What manner of beast be thee that comes before this elder tree? Allow me a moment to welcome thee. I am call the Grand Oak sometimes the Elder Tree."

"It rhymes? Tis a rhyming tree. I can only imagine what manner of spirit is involved here," Morrigan says and I roll my eyes. Doesn't look like this tree will attack us though.

"Are you going to attack us like the others?" I ask it. Hey that's nothing weird – the flaming tree talked first!

"Ah no. I am but a humble tree, and am no threat to thee, unless thee proves a threat to me."

Interesting. "Will other trees attack us?"

"I cannot say for sure, as I do not know how pure the intentions of my brother sylvan trees be. They may fight and loose in wills of might, for they cannot choose what their spirits muse and see."

"You mean the demons inhabiting them," William purses his lips. "Is there a demon residing in you?" That's a question that'll make the sodding tree attack us – for sure!

"I am but a spirit, not of this forest but in like to thee – I am no demon as you may see."

"Will you let us pass?" I ask it.

"The choice of your quest is for you to decide on which path is best. If you seek to end the curse of lycanthropy, you should know that those thou will contend will forever fight to their ends for one far different than we. Take a word of caution my friends, and know that thous fight will need much to end."

That was weird... and I only kinda understood what the sod all the tree was talking about. We continue on until we come across a river. Oh so nice – bath! "Let's find a place to make camp around here," I suggest and everyone increases their pace eager to find a large enough space for us to set up our tents.

Mithra was scouting ahead, and returns with a slightly confused expression on her face. "There's a camp up ahead."

I furrow my brow, "Was there anyone there?"

She shakes her head, "I would have seen, but Elgar'nan there weren't even any tracks. It seems abandoned, but the fire is lit."

I look towards the others for thoughts, and William shuffles his feet, "The Veil still feels odd, but that's likely due to the sylvan trees."

"We'll check it out," I nod to the Dalish. So want a bath. "Everyone use caution though."

The camp is... just like the Dalish huntress said. It seems... nice though. We could use the camp – set up ours along with what's here. Be comfortable right by the river.

"Oh, how lovely," I hear the Orlesian say. "It's quaint... picturesque."

I pop my head inside one of the tents looking for signs of life. That bed roll has _a lot _of furs. It looks so comfy. It would be comfier if I could cuddle with William while cuddling in the furs. He's so huggable.

"Do you think," I hear Zevran yawn. "That we could stay here for a quick siesta, if nothing else Wardens?"

"They've got a flask er wine," I hear Oghren announce. "It's mine tha." Sure... He can have the wine I'll take the bed. Oh – its _so soft_.

"Everyone," I hear William say. Why's he sound so far away? "This isn't right! The Veil... Something is wrong."

"We should leave," Morrigan is agreeing with William. Why? My head hits the pillow. So comfy. Let's just take a nap, okay?

* * *

_"Shiloh," a voice sings my name. The fingers that were covering my eyes flit away and I'm met by the familiar sight of Mamae. But... isn't she... gone? "Surprise!" She announces and I see a silver and blue dress laid out in front of me. "Do you like it? You can wear it for your nameday party!"_

_"But... My nameday isn't until Justinian." Isn't it almost winter?_

_She pouts. "It is Justinian silly. Try on your dress! I know you'll love it." Since when did Mamae get so... perky? And I... don't like dresses. Then why – then why am I putting it on? "There!" She announces with a flourish. "You're beautiful! Let's go to the party! Your guest is already here," she winks. This is... Mamae was never like this._

_I'm dragged to the square where there's decorations for the party, and... William? Why is... Why is he here? He's not supposed to be here. "There's your handsome guest!" Mamae would never ever say that about a shem. Duncan was the only one she liked. This is... this isn't right._

_"No," I whisper. She looks at me and her brows furrow. Did her eyes just flash red? "This isn't right."_

_"Of course it is dear," she pulls me closer. "Just relax – it's a party."_

_Did her words just get some bite to them? I pull back, but I can't I'm stuck to the spot. "No!" I say it a little louder. Everyone looks towards me. "You're not Mamae! You're dead!"_

_Mamae bears her teeth threateningly and... growls. "I'm your mother!" Did her voice... how come her voice sounds like that? "You will relax! You will enjoy yourself!"_

_The Vhenadahl tree shakes... and burns with lightening. Mamae's eyes flash red again and she howls. Her fingers grow and grow until her hands are little more than bone claws, digging into my flesh. "You will stay!" She yells in an unnatural voice. A voice that is nowhere near close to her own. Did... the tree just catch on fire? I close my eyes – its so bright. So much fire and light. I hear 'Mamae' howl in the background as the light consumes me. The light is right... not this._

* * *

I gasp and sit up taking large lungfuls of air with my heaving chest. William is sitting before me, the glow of his healing magic held in the palm of his hand. Where's the tent? I look around and see everyone is in varying states of consciousness except for the two mages – they're both awake. My eyes snap back to William's, "What the fucking sod just happened?"

He sits back on his heels as I work to calm myself. It was jarring to see Mamae so clearly. I haven't seen her in... so long. She looked so alive. She's always dead or dying in the darkspawn nightmares. "It was a greater Shade. It tricked us – wanted to feed off our energies. It must have crossed the Veil when it thinned, as this camp is very old."

You can say that again. I look around – everything is rotted and dusty. I struggle to stand, and he helps me. Damn I feel exhausted. "Let's find somewhere else to camp. Far away." Everyone grumbles their consent. It's been a sodding long day.

* * *

We make camp further down the river so we're still able to bathe. All of us, of each gender, take turns at the river in case something attacks us – like a giant tree, darkspawn, wolves, bears, and the sodding werewolves. Lots of things want to see us dead in this forest. It's not pleasant. What's worse though – bathing with both the Dalish women and the witch. Now Mithra – I can tolerate her, as she's not half bad. She occasionally will send cold looks at the humans of our group, and she won't answer a single question any one asks of her that's not an elf or dwarf. But all that is understandable as it seems the Dalish are secular and a bit racist. But Amyrah – I kinda want to hold her head under the water and see what happens. She's a bitch to everyone – even Mithra. At least it sounds that way by the way they're practically shouting elvish at each other right now. Ugh. I think I can tolerate the witch better than the Dalish warrior – which is very, very strange.

I walk up to them and put a hand on Mithra's shoulder. "Can we stop this? We don't want to draw attention to ourselves. We could get sodding ambushed." They both calm, if reluctantly, and look towards me. I look between the two, my curiosity getting the better of me. "What's this about?"

Mithra takes a large breath and looks at me with her eyes pooled with angry tears. "She said terrible things about my da'len." She puts a hand on her lower stomach. I know that word! That means... oh shit.

"You're pregnant?" She nods. Oh shit again. I would _not _have allowed a pregnant woman to come with us. It's too dangerous. I mean, it's not like I could tell. She looks a little... really? Damn she's tiny for a pregnant woman.

"Come on," I grab her around the elbow. Poor child might not ever know its father, as he's still lost in these woods, if he's alive at all. That's so sad. "We can share soap. You don't have to stay around her," I nod towards Amyrah, "if you don't want to." Mithra nods and follows me down a little ways. I'll keep the bitch off her back. She needs someone to look out for her. Poor thing. Could not imagine being in her shoes. Not that I'd ever be in her shoes being the Grey Warden that I am. I should stop thinking on that line of thought... I'm still a little frazzled from the not-Mamae I've recently seen. That brought up too many bad memories. Oh journal – I'll be writing in you tonight. Maybe I'll chat with William a bit too.

* * *

The next day we come across that talking werewolf again, and he tried to get us to leave _again_. It's really weird. He scampers away before he can get too injured. But he's not the werewolf I'm concerned about right now. There's a smaller, more petite one with a silver coat hunched on all fours and panting heavily when we approach. It doesn't attack but looks up for its crouched position and speaks (another one),

"P-please," it labors. Does it sound a little feminine? "I-I am in so, so much pain. Please – please kill me! Creators have mercy! P-please!" Oh... Was this werewolf once an elf? Didn't the Dalish's leader say something about the curse infecting his people? Some of them would turn then...

I keep my distance, but crouch down to get a good look at the werewolf. It still has blue-elven looking eyes, and not the ethereal orange eyes of the other werewolves. The infection is painful? It... I guess it could be. You do turn into a sodding werewolf. "Who are you?" I ask.

"M-my name... Danyla. Please – grant me mercy!"

"Mamae?" I turn my head to look at the ginger-haired warrior as she walks forward. Ah yes, that was Amyrah's mother's name. She raised such a charming daughter. I'm only surprised Amyrah didn't turn into a werewolf first. "You're one of them?"

"N-no. Not Danyla," the werewolf shakes her head. "Not mamae. Not anymore."

"Mamae," Danyla steps forward a little more. "We're getting a cure – the Keeper can cure you!"

"No!" She shouts. "It-it hurts! Please kill me!"

I motion towards the witch to catch her attention. "Can you put a sleeping hex on the werewolf?" She nods and does so quickly. Different.

With Danyla knocked out cold, I look towards William. "Can you do anything for her?" It's so sad, despite it being Amyrah's mother. So fucked up. I'd hate to be a sodding werewolf.

He shakes his head sadly, "I can't heal the lycanthropy lass."

I frown, "She said she was in a lot of pain."

"You are not going to kill Mamae, are you?" Amyrah asks as she steps closer to us. "Creators – don't kill her!"

I huff. I may not like Amyrah, but I won't kill her mother if there's a chance she can be cured. And according to our map, we're close to the ruins Zathrian told us of. "No – we're not. We're trying to find a temporary solution though, so she won't have to suffer until a cure can be made."

"If I may," Zevran interjects. "I have knowledge of a potion that will keep someone sedated for at least a day."

"You can make it?"

"Sí, but of course Commander."

I nod – I have a plan. "Let's move her somewhere safe, so she won't get sodding chewed on by wolves, and give her your potion Zevran. Once we're done in the ruins, we can come back for her, and keep her asleep in the cart until we can get her to the Keeper for his cure."

"Ma serannas," Amyrah breathes. "Thank you." She actually looks thankful. Weird. "The Creators must truly favor you."

When we leave, Danyla's unconscious werewolf body in our cart, we happen upon a camp – with someone William knows.

"Aneirin!" He exclaims. "We all thought you were dead! There were rumors... The templars didn't return with you. How are you alive?"

The red-haired elf walks up to us cautiously. "I know you... Amell?"

"Yes – it's me William. How is it you're alive? And why do you have Dalish tattoos?"

This 'Aneirin' explains how he was a city elf, then Circle mage, then almost corpse, taken in by the Dalish – and how he now lives on his own because 'he learned to listen to the animals'. He sounds off his rocker to me. William knows him though, as apparently they were in spirit healing lessons together. We explain to him Danyla's situation, and with Amyrah and her best pleading puppy eyes, Aneirin agrees to allow the recently turned werewolf temporary shelter in his camp. He also tells us about a crazy hermit – a Ponderous mage that retreated fully into his mind and is quite dangerous. This hermit is situated on the path indicated by Zathrian for us to travel. Aneirin has offered to escort us on another path he knows that will lead us to the very same ruins we're looking for. Which is totally awesome. This Aneirin guy is turning out to be quite helpful. Even if his sanity is questionable.

We walk through the woods for a little time, and my sensitive ears pick up the sounds of someone grumbling and cursing. All of the elves of the group, except for Aneirin as I'm guessing he's seen it before, look through the sparse trees in this area to see who must be the 'hermit' Aneirin had described. He seems to be having an argument with himself. He's older – long grey beard, unkempt hair, ragged clothes, and dirt I can see coating his skin from here. He swings a fist and punches himself, and I have to look away. Aneirin said he was a Ponderous mage that retreated into himself, one that locked himself off from the entire world. That... that could be William were the circumstances different. That could be William if he wasn't as strong and able as he is. I frown. I think both me and William are in need of hugs (even if he doesn't know it). I walk up to him and place an arm around his waist. I can be sodding weird if I want to. William seems shocked at first, but lets me even if my armor is probably uncomfortable through his Warden robes. We continue to walk through the woods.

* * *

Aneirin takes us to a smaller marked path – one that looks little more than a hunting trail, and tells us to follow it and we'll reach the ruins. Sodding difficult to maneuver the cart through this part, but we manage. We get to a fairly more open area, and start to see the first signs of the ruins – pieces of broken pillars, half-standing archways, and damaged statues. We can see the main building of the ruins in the distance, so we pull the cart over in amongst some of the archways to leave behind for this part of our venture. I look for Ward to tell him to guard the cart while were gone killing giant wolves, but I don't see him. Worry pulls at the edges of my mind as I continue to look for my mabari.

"Ward!" I call out and when I receive no answering bark, I shuck off one of my gauntlets and put two fingers in my mouth to whistle. I hear his bark this time – back in the trees near the hunting trail. I put back on my gauntlet and quickly walk in that direction, with the others trailing behind me. Sodding flaming mabari better not be chasing another squirrel.

Oh. He didn't find a squirrel – he found a body. A body that's still breathing. Oh shit. William runs forward and lights up the body with magic as he heals him. The others break through the tree line, and I hear a female voice yell out, "Emma lath!"

Mithra dashes forward and kneels by the fallen elven body, as she puts shaking worried hands on his cheeks. Is this her husband? Shitty shit. He doesn't look very good...

Ward walks up to me and whines, and I pet him on the head with a gauntleted hand. "You did good boy." His ears perk up and he pants happily.

William stands, and we all look towards him. "He had several broken bones and bruising, which I've healed, but... he also has the lycanthropy."

Mithra cries and places her head on the leather of Deygan's chest. She repeats, 'emma vhenan' over and over as the man comes to.

"Ma sa'lath," the man says shakily when he wakes to see Mithra bent on his chest. It's sodding heart-wrenching to watch this. Mithra asks to escort her husband back to the Keeper to await a cure, and we give her several health poultices and a few supplies we can spare – and the bitch that is Amyrah. The Dalish warrior is reluctant to leave, but I promise to see to her mother once we're done and convince her of the fact that Mithra and Deygan would not survive on their own in these woods. Those three leave, and all of us, save Ward (he's guarding the cart), make for the ruins.


	21. (Apollo Wings) The Past

Author note: Huge trigger warning for this one - non-consensual scene, abuse, torture, death and general dark themes. Oh - and the end for adult situations of the consensual variety too. You have been warned. (Note after writing the memory scenes - it made me sick. Really really sick)

I hope that didn't give the game away but I hope you enjoy? Enjoy the skill of the writer - not the content maybe. Let's just say - all aboard the angst train. Choo-choo.

* * *

**William Amell**

Now as glad as I am to be rid of the Dalish duo - especially Amyrah - their help might have been helpful in these Blighted ruins. Skeletons - reanimated.

At least a few good spells and swordplay would take them out no problem. They were rather mindless and unarmed. Just annoying really. It was the spiders that were getting on my nerves. I hate poison and it's a good thing Leliana and Zevran know the counters to the venom strains that Ferelden spiders excrete. They spit it. So even small cuts need dousing in the venom-counter.

"There's something in that side room..." I trailed off. The Veil is unusually thin in this forest - alarmingly so with the demon trees - or sylvans, walking skeletons and the fact we faced a greater Shade that crossed the Veil. But it feels much stronger in the room to our right. If there's a tear here Morrigan and myself will have to try to suture it up... I think it involves telling it to close in Tevine. And defeating any demons that want out. "Can we quickly investigate - we don't want to be crept up on by demons do we?"

"We had better check it out." Shiloh nodded in the dim glow of the fireball Morrigan kept above us to allow us light in the ruined temple tunnels. It's better than the deep roads - at least there's no darkspawn spume coating the walls. Just vines and dirt.

"Even I can feel the thin Veil. I don't like it. How do mages cope - it's like ice water dripping down my spine." Alistair shuddered for effect. I really must speak to him one of these days. I think he has to be related to a mage at least.

"Tis not a matter of coping fool. Mages happen to be used to demons and the Fade." Morrigan snapped. It's true - the feeling is something you get used to. Unless of course you happen to be more susceptible to demonic possession. At which point - welcome to abomination town. Population - you.

"You know Morrigan - I was thinking." Alistair smirked.

"A new thing I take it?" There will never be love lost between those two.

"Your nose."

"What of it?" She self-consciously put a hand to her face before almost slapping it away with the other. Oh that was vaguely girly Morrigan. You should reign yourself in or someone might think that bitchy icicle you have in place of a heart pumps blood.

"It does strike me as very familiar - I believe Flemeth has a very similar nose." He giggled at the end of his sentence.

"Oh will you two just butter the southern pony already?" Oghren grumbled.

"Pardon?" Alistair looked shocked.

"Ya know - don the velvet hat..." Silence ensued. "Buck the midnight bronto? Forge the moaning statue?"

"I think he means you should fu-" Zevran was cut off. Oh... he was going to make one of his now infamous innuendos. Or he was going to be crass.

"La la la la la - so not listening!" Alistair clamped his hands over his ears.

"Quite a disturbing image. I believe I lost my appetite for the rest of the Blight." Morrigan groaned. I think so too. Bleh - it sounds as appealing as Alistair's cooking.

"How about we just sort out this..." I trailed off again as I neared the source of the disruption in the Veil. It's a gemstone? A ruby if I'm not mistaken. Just lying atop some rubble. I picked it up and it filled my mind with images... like communique of some sort. "It's a phylactery."

"So destroy it and we shall deal with the werewolves no?" Zevran muttered - put out still by Alistair by the sounds of it.

"There's a mage inside it... trapped." The feeling of being held paralyzed for aeons shuddered through me. "It wants to be free... there's a few words needed to free it..."

_You're in pain human. You past hidden from yourself. For freeing me I could give these memories back to you. As well as magic that allows you to wield a weapon like any warrior. _

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth. _Then do so._ I thought back at the mage in the phylactery of sorts. There's something in my past they want to keep hidden from me. I want to know. I want to remember my life.

* * *

_I don't know where I am... it's like the Fade. But familiar in a way. I can't describe it. There's a fire crackling in a great hearth and a massive dog dozing on a rug in front of it. I feel like I know where I am.  
_

_"Greetings." I turned to see a tattooed elf, mousy brown hair cropped almost to the scalp and in robes made of leather and plate pieces, a sword sheathed at her belt. "I am Meddolwen."_

_"William." I bowed from the hip in respect. That's the voice that sounded in my head - the mage from the phylactery. Why is my voice so high? It's like my voice never broke. "So where and when are we? How old am I?"  
_

_"I believe you are six right now." I froze still. The age my memory lost became total. I don't feel six though. "This is just before you manifested your powers - where you lived."_

_"Can you hear my thoughts?" I asked._

_"Yes." Meddolwen sighed. "Let's retrieve your memories, I can wait a few more hours if it means I can be free of this imprisonment."_

_"Thank you... are my memories going to be..."_

_"Unpleasant... I have seen them. Yes."_

_I gulped. No going back. I'm going to find out what happened in my life._

* * *

_"No! You can't take my son!" I watched helplessly as the woman I know is my mother was being held back by three armored templars. "Billy!" I have never been called anything other than my full name. It feels weird. There's a smoking heap of ash in the background... the merchant stall. Everything looks so... clean other than that. Granite and clean. So this is Starkhaven?  
_

_"Mama!" I'm crying, my arms being wrenched backwards and I felt as if all my energy is being torn away, my link to everything. I've been smited! Suddenly I felt the side of my head get hit and I'm watching everything through blurry vision, my eyes half-open.  
_

_"I'll gut you pigs!" My mother yelled at the men._

_"Revka!" A man that looks so much like me I'm actually shocked came pelting round the corner, tartans whipping with the speed he's running at, he pulled a bow from his back and launched an arrow at the feet of the templars. (Well mainly he looks like me - no tattoos and he's much less rake-like.)  
_

_"Stand down Ser!" One of the templars let go of my mother and drew a sword. No... don't do it. Please. "This is templar business."_

_"I'll be damned if there's templar business around here!" He growled. I even sound like him. The low brogue of Starkhaven never left my voice. But I can't stop watching. Don't hurt him - don't hurt my Papa._

_"You son is an apostate. Stand down." The templar with the unsheathed sword demanded. My father stopped in his tracks._

_"My boy." He sounded so broken. "Why? Why have you got to take him? My wee bairn... Billy..." Again with the Billy? I'm William..._

* * *

_The memory faded and I'm standing on a shapeless platform with Meddolwen. "Are you alright?"  
_

_"I'll be fine lass... just shocked. I've only ever remembered the burning the stall down part." I hung my head. "Next memory please."_

_"As you wish." She sounded hesitant but waved her hands in an intricate pattern and the platform gave way to a new area.  
_

* * *

_"He's different." I'm standing in a corner and look down to see dull blue apprentice robes on me. I feel taller than I was before. So I'm older. I know who the templar is addressing though. That's First Enchanter Raddick. How do I know that? "We believe he is what is known as a Ponderous Mage."  
_

_"I see." The First Enchanter put a hand up to his chin. "We don't have the resources to deal with such specialized mages though. Stick him in the higher classes for the time being and we'll see how things go." A heavily armored hand of a templar grasped tight to my shoulder and I'm half-dragged out of the room.  
_

_"Come on boy." The templar shoved me down the stairs and I stumbled on my robes a little, falling flat on my face halfway down. The ground connects hard with my nose with a solid crack and pain explodes all the way up my nose to my forehead and into my head. "Get up!"_

_"Y-yes." I stuttered. I can't remember ever feeling so scared. The way I'm being spoken to, the way I hurt and still must move.  
_

_"So you're a special one. You know what happens to special mages don't you boy?" Now that was ominously dark. The templar reached forward and grabbed hold of my nose, yanking it with a horrid crackle of cartilage back into place. Maker - it hurts even more.  
_

_"You're only seven." Meddolwen soothes in the background, almost in my mind. "I'm very sorry for what happens next."  
_

_I'm pushed into a cell of sorts, cold wrought iron bars and I get shoved into the corner facing into the center as the templar follows me in. I'm watching torn between sickness, disgust and curiosity as the templar shucks off his gauntlet and winds a thick rope round his knuckles. I know what's going to happen as if it's happened before. I can't remember but it feels so commonplace.  
_

_"On your knees. The hand of the Maker demands it!" The templar growled at me and wordlessly I obliged. If I follow orders it won't be so harsh. I'll only be beaten lightly. I'll be good. The rope covered fist scrapes with the force of the blow across my face and I spit blood, a shard of tooth coming out with the bloody gob. For that I get a knee into the chest.  
_

_I can't look away. Even as I'm in a fetal position on the floor, my bones cracking as I'm kicked into standing again. This is what they took my memories of. I'm screaming as I'm forced up into the wall of the cell and my limbs are trussed up tight with the ropes that were wrapped around the templars hand. I feel the resonance of lyrium get stronger and turn my head ever so slightly to see two more figures darken in the flickering light of a wall sconce. _

_"You started without us!" The shortest one harrumphed.  
_

_The memory started to fade around me and I can feel myself screaming as more fists and feet make contact._

* * *

_"I'm sorry." Meddolwen was looking down at her feet on the platform. "I could only sustain it for so long before your emotions clouded my own thinking."_

_"What happened next?" I can feel everything anew. Every split lip, every fracture. I can't sense any distress in my limbs right now. I feel like I'm twenty-four again.  
_

_"I'm not showing you more." Meddolwen sighed. "I can't - it's too terrible."_

_"Show me Meddolwen. I need to know." I felt my jaw clench._

_"No."_

* * *

"Let go of me you fucking..." I blinked up into the cavern - the resonance of lyrium close by, the beat of magic in the air. My hair is slicked to my head and my robes damp with cold sweat and sticking to me. "He's awake!"

Shiloh almost crashed down on me and I can still feel myself shaking. Like I was only beaten moments ago. The helplessness, the injustice. "You worried us a moment there William." The lyrium resonance neared me and reflexively I slipped away from all contact. I feel the burn of the ropes until it was ripping my skin.

"Get away!" I croaked... I don't want him near me. "Everyone - go!"

I clutched tighter to the phylactery gem in my hand. _You're going to show me the rest of my memories or so help me. _I felt myself slipping away again ad my head hit back into rubble.

* * *

_"Shhh... You're going to live." I opened my eyes as I felt the cool wash of magic light up in every cell of my body, aches and pains disappearing. "They beat you pretty bad this time."_

_"Who... who are you?" I sat up on what appears to be a bunk and pulled my knees up to my chest. The woman in front of me with glowing blue hands smiled weakly._

_"They hit you a bit hard in the head didn't they?" She's got the bluest eyes, like water and bright red hair in flicks framing around her jaw like flames. "Enchanter Helena." She shook her head, the flame hair moving like the fire it resembles.  
_

_"What happened? How old am I?" I'm also in just my smallclothes. The scent of elfroot is thick in the air and my limbs feel sticky with salve._

_"Oh they really did a number on you." Helena closed her eyes. "You're eight William." So I've been beaten again._

_"Get out of here." Helena and I both looked up to see a faceless templar in the door frame, his helmet covering his face. "We're not finished with that spellbind."  
_

_"Don't call him that!" Helena stood, her shoulders back even if she's shaking. "You're not touching him again."_

_"That so wench?" The templar put a hand out and Helena dropped to the floor, whimpering in pain. The vacuum of energies felt so cold where he'd smited her. So dark and empty. Helena never broke eye contact with him though._

_"You're not going to touch anyone ever again you tin plated p-" Then his sword was going straight through her middle, severing her spinal column and Helena was bleeding out on the floor. The templar moved forward and gripped her hand around his belt knife and used her cooling hands to slash at her palms leaving her on the floor with his belt knife still in her hand. _

_"Damn blood mages. What a waste." He spoke nonchalant. I'm barely breathing, the smell of blood acrid in the air. I'm trying to cover myself with my arms but he's getting closer to me. "You saw her go for me. I had to do the Makers duty."_

_I gulped. I can feel the sting of metal gauntlets still. "Aye... I saw it Ser."_

_"I'm not continuing this! It's not right what they did to you!" Meddolwen materializes in front of me and pulls me back in essence until I'm tumbling back into the waking world._

* * *

I've never felt so unclean as I gasp for air, the dust and grime coating the inside of my mouth. "Fucking arseholes. I'll rip them apart!" I turn sharply to the source of the voice and see Shiloh with quivering fists and Oghren standing right in front of her, his back to me.

The lyrium resonance is right next to me and a friendly face stares. Alistair... templar. I lash out and scoot away. I can't stand him, what he is, the face is a mask for the darkness within. They'll hurt me. I'm going to be hurt if I so much as look at one of them funny.

"You're going to be alright." A soothing voice pierces the fog of what I'm thinking. I whip my head and stare a few moments, my breath ragged. It's her and it's not her. Leliana and Enchanter Helena both transposed on each others images.

"You're dead... you're dead." I pull the gem phylactery to my chest and whisper into it, harshly because Meddolwen is going to give me my memories back or she won't be freed. I need to know. I need closure. "You're going to show me the rest of those memories or you'll wish you were in there trapped."

_Fine. Your funeral human. _

* * *

_I'm suspended by my wrists in a dark cell, my knees digging into dirt, no light, hunger clawing at my stomach, body weak with no mana or food to sustain me. The lyrium resonance nears me and instinctively I flinch in my bonds. The place smells of death, excrement and shame. I've defied them. I'm being punished. That's why I'm here. How old am I now? _

_"You're thirteen now." Meddolwen is a mere whisper in my ear. "You wanted to know."  
_

_"Good morning slave." The voice is oddly cheery in the dankness that encompasses me, the sweat and blood that is drying on my skin. "I was wondering if you wanted food today." The way he said it made me want to gag. The templars don't give things away, there's a cost to everything. But my body rebels against all logical thought, tightening inwards.  
_

_"P-please Ser." I rasp quietly, my dry mouth feeling odd for speaking. It's like every nerve is on fire just from the energy expended in talking. The templar laughs quietly._

_"They always break." He fumbles with the templar skirts, the yellow and purple almost black in such dark conditions until they part and he's moving toward me, his cock in hand. I clamp my mouth tight. I know what he's going to do. I get stuck across the face with a spiked gauntlet and blood runs freely from a cut under my eye, my shoulders jarring as I'm shaken in my metallic bonds. The hand that struck me pushes a sharp index finger and thumb into each of my cheeks, forcing parched lips open. "You want to live don't you?"  
_

_I don't but hardly have the strength to breathe as he forces himself into my mouth, his helmet making acid burn up my throat as I'm gagging for foetid air. He's laughing as he grasps the back of my head and yanks me forward and back over his shaft. I'm burning in humiliation, my eyes close and I try to think of something to distract myself from where I am. But nothing comes to save me, nothing to distract from the way I'm forced to endure until he pants and moans, shooting thick salty liquid into the back of my throat._

_Maker... I asked for this. I pleaded, nay - begged for sustenance. He pulls out sharply and his hand is on my mouth and the other pinches my nose. "Swallow." He commands and I have no choice if I want to breathe again. I don't know if I do but my mind is buzzing from lack of air and eventually I gulp back. "Good mage. That's your food for today."_

_I'd thrash out if I had the energy. A bucket of stinking water is thrown over me before I can think and I'm left sopping wet in the dark, contemptuous thoughts about taking my own life, self starving until I'm just not able to continue to cling to this mockery of life.  
_

_This has been going on for years. This isn't the first time and it's not the last._

* * *

I'm shaking, I can't focus on anything but the singular heartbeat near me, stroking back on my sopping wet sweaty hair. "You're going to be alright." The accented voice repeats over and over.

"I... I asked for it." I close my eyes as I slip back into my memories again.

* * *

_"I told you that you wouldn't want to know." Meddolwen is holding me upright on her platform in the Fade. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."  
_

_I cling back at the ancient elf as if for dear life. "I asked." I take a deep breath of the sensuous Fade air._

_"I need to move on from this life. I've lived past my time." Meddolwen steps away from me. "But I promised to give you my skills as a Warrior and a mage. I was what you know is an Elementalist in life, as well as what I can roughly translate to an Arcane Warrior."_

_"You don't need to." I manage._

_"But I do. I'd rather my skills were put to use. Remember... you're loved." Then she fades into the ether and I'm alone._

* * *

_I'm in a forest, the air swirling around me as if a part of my very soul and the knowledge of the Arcane Warriors seeps into my mind, the way to channel magic through a blade, to use it to slash, parry, to augment any strength of my own with my magical power and mana.  
_

_The skills of an Elementalist, the proper way to invigorate molecules and slow them down to set them aflame or freeze them solid._

_The memories of Meddolwen's training blur together in a haze, my magic and hers melding into a powerful force inside me._

_"My staff is behind where you found my phylactery... take it." Meddolwen breathes into the wind swirling around me. I nod._

_"Be free Meddolwen." Then I feel like I'm breathing through water._

* * *

I gasp and splutter for air in the darkness. I'm back...

The memories edge in the back of my mind and I feel the shards of the gem phylactery in my enclosed fist. I shake them into the floor and shakily stand, I know where I am as if I've always been here. I drop to my knees at the rubble where I found Meddolwen and start digging until I find the curved scabbard, a sword still inside. I clasp the pommel and slide the blade out a few inches.

"William?" The voice is tentative. "What in the Maker's name has possessed you?"

"Purpose." I light up a ball of flames in the palm of my hand and note how untarnished the blade is, how it reacts to my touch like it were made for my hand. I hook the scabbard to my belt as I stand and draw the blade out, testing the perfect weight of it, too long to be a longsword but not long or wide enough to be a greatsword, curved with no embellishments on the sharp blade, ringing with power.

"What... happened?"

"I found myself." I don't need to speak, I'll ensure no mage ever suffers like I did. I have purpose. I will eviscerate the monsters of my youth, the shadows of my past will not haunt me. There will be no shame.

* * *

Leliana followed after me and the ball of flames I cast. Both of us in silence. Using my Warden senses I follow the cold burning thrum of my fellows in Taint until we're in a cavern. Shiloh is on her knees, a group of humans around her in a semi-circle. The tang of blood magic screams in the air, demons draw to it but I emit a piercing aura at them. I will not falter to the inane blabbering of their petty, weak minds.

"Thank you Warden for freeing us from the curse." One of them speaks, his voice not more than a growl before they move away in brisk run.

"Shiloh." I break the silence in the room and all my companions look up in shock, the witch, templar, dwarf, assassin and Shiloh each a picture of bewilderment. Shiloh ambles up from the ground and almost knocks me to the floor.

"Don't you dare scare me like that again. You stupid, stupid man." Her bloodied armored arms threaten to crush around me and I take in a deep breath. I can do this. It's just a hug. There's nothing... untoward about it. I'm in a fledgling relationship with this gorgeous lass. I pull back a little, using some of the Arcane Warrior skills to use my magic in place of strength to pry her from me. I'm not really ready to be so close. Not yet.

"You need healing." I manage to bring up a healing aura... just a few bruises.

"Like fuck I do!" Shiloh looks hurt in the glow of the aura. "What happened?"

"I can't... I can't say." I turn away. "If I guessed correctly you broke the curse of lycanthropy?"

"Yeah... one sodding great fight you missed Stretch." Oghren chuckles. "You better now?"

"More than better." I take a deep breath. "I have purpose. We should get back to the Dalish - we need our troops don't we?"

* * *

I deigned to speak more than I already had, and I can't go near the templar. It's just me now. I'll be against everyone, I'll beat this, I'll show the fuckers what happens when you hurt a mage.

I pace the shadows of the trees when we've set up camp. I'll burn them. I'll gut them with my new staff, a blade so sharp it sings in the air. "Did you want to talk?" The templar. No. Never to you.

I glare at him and he just stands there awkwardly before huffing and walking away. Good. I don't want you anywhere near me bastard.

"William..." More people want to talk to me. Why can't I be left alone to my own devices?

"What Leliana?" I snapped.

"I helped to put up your tent, and dinner is ready."

"I'm not hungry." I sustain myself, my anger fuels me. I may require food during this transition though. Perhaps it might be an idea to eat. Damnable body requires it. Weakness.

I hardly speak, hardly listen to the talking around me. I'm on second watch with the templar and Leliana. Wonderful. Just what I wanted. I retreat to my tent and get inside my bedroll.

I set the personal time keeper to make a shrill noise for two bells in the morning and lay down. Argh... I hit my head on...

My Journal. Damned thing. I pick it up. I know my memories now. I don't need this heavy piece of shit to weigh me down. I throw it out of the tent - aiming for the dying campfire and it lands heavily in the embers, sparks flying into the cold dark air. Good. This better burn like the depths of the Void.

* * *

I kept a patrol around the camp, walking is keeping my mind focused. The templar is speaking to Leliana. Traitorous bitch can speak to him. I don't need anyone. If I'm on my own then I'm on my own. It's something I should be used to but it still cuts like a knife.

Oghren, Zevran and Morrigan relieve us come five bells and I returned to my tent. Only three more hours before we'll be breaking camp again. I slip into my bedroll again. Darkspawn dreams almost seem like a reprieve.

* * *

We found a stream come mid-morning and I scrubbed myself red raw in the cold water. I need to be clean. I can't be rid of their touch. I can't get clean enough. I need to purify myself.

I'm far away from the others where they clean themselves. I can hear their splashing, the laughter and talking but I feel cold toward it. I can't get clean enough.

Blood seeps into the chilling water where I dig my nails into my skin, I need their touch to be gone. I feel every sickening caress, every scar that I didn't know how I got them.

* * *

The days pass in almost a daze as we trudge continually through the forest. I use the blade at my hip to wield magic and pain at any ambushes of wolves and sylvans that dare threaten us, mechanically heal injuries and head back to the rear-guard. I don't need to speak.

There's no point in talking when it doesn't erase the past. Nothing erases it. It hangs over me like a black cloud and I can't be rid of the foulness.

I don't pay attention as we arrive in the Dalish camp and there's some sort of ceremony for Keeper Zathrian and the ascension of Lanaya as the new Keeper. We get our troops and it fills me with a vague sense of achievement that is quickly diminished when I think of how disgusting a path that has lead me to this point in my life.

I don't care. I'll get past this all. I'll emerge from this stronger for it. I'm a powerful mage, a Spirit Healer, a Galvanist, an Elementalist and an Arcane Warrior. The joint magical strength I've cultivated and of Meddolwen. I will avenge the boy that was lost to them.

They will know of what I've felt. I am more.

"Hey Stretch you feelin' alright?" The dwarf...

"Fine." I stride away from him. I don't need people to comfort me. I'm fine.

* * *

I lean back into my bedroll, the sounds of the forest distracting me of contemplation. Damned animals.

"William." I close my eyes and snort a breath from my nose. I don't need to speak. "William. I want to speak with you. Get out of your tent now."

I wait a few minutes. That usually is long enough for them to get the idea. I don't need to speak. I'm fine. I know what purpose I have. It's to make sure no other mage suffers like I did at the hands of those cruel bastards. I'm free of them... except for the one that still hangs around my neck like a noose. But others aren't.

"William." Shiloh puts her head through the tent flaps. "Out of the tent - You've barely spoken five words in a string in a week." Is that how long it's been?

"Aye." I turn over and look at the canvas and the flickering fire on the other side of it. Doesn't she understand how tainted I am? How disgusting and broken I am? I'm not speaking because I don't want to spread it. I don't want anyone to know.

"Out of the tent before I drag you out." She huffs. A chill ran down my spine at her tone, the words spoken. I'm just another pawn to be pushed about, another thing in her way. Good. Let her get angry at me. I get up nevertheless and follow her. Shiloh isn't a templar. She wouldn't hurt me.

Would she?

We walk in silence until surrounded by trees, almost no sounds from camp even filtering through them. I feel like I've walked to my own execution. Maybe she'll strangle me with her bare hands and during my dying throes I'll finally find some peace? She looks so worried, light boots, hose and tunic on.

"You're retreating into yourself." Her tone is accusatory, hurt.

"I'm not." Don't accuse me of things you know nothing about. You said you don't know anything about magic. You don't lie. So don't make things up. I'm fine.

"Don't give me that bullshit." She snaps. "It's like your journal... you're so..."

"The journal is gone. Burnt." I clench my jaw at the memory of the flames licking the pages. I don't need to be different, I'm like I am because I'm different. I don't need special treatment or techniques. I'm supposed to be a regular person, not this shell.

"Well that was a few words." Shiloh sighs. "You don't even speak to me." Hurt radiates from her eyes and I want to do everything in my power to stop it. But I caused it. It's my fault. It's their fault. If I wasn't different I'd be fine. If they weren't so grandiose in their belief about their infallible fucking Maker I'd be fine.

"I don't need to speak." I close my eyes. "I don't want to hurt anymore." My voice cracks with the admission and I almost want to crumple into a ball and rock myself backwards and forwards. I can't show weakness. Shiloh glances at me hesitantly, studying me like I'm an odd species of bug not cataloged.

"Why not?"

"Why the fuck would anyone want to hurt?" I snap, glaring at her. "I'm broken. I'm unclean. I can't get rid of it!" I stare down at my hands and almost feel the blood dripping off them from afterwards, when I'd tried to scrub it all away.

"You're not William." Shiloh hesitantly reaches out and touches my hand and it clenches into a fist away from her. Don't - you'll be as unclean as I am. She reaches out and holds onto my clenched hand with both her dainty ones. "You're not."

"They did this." I whisper. "Just go. Everything I touch becomes ashes." Shiloh steps closer to me, her eyes shining in the half-light.

"I'm not going anywhere." I want to move away but I can't. I'm transfixed as she leans forward and just threads her arms around me under my own, pressing herself against me. "My place is here."

Everything in my mind tells me to move, to tell her that she dirties herself by coming close. She leans upward on her toes and gently brushes her lips with mine and I freeze solid. She can't touch where they touched. She'll be as wrenched as I am. She can't. But I need her and almost return her kiss with bruising force, I feel like myself again, a modicum of myself restored from the loving contact.

Shiloh groans into my lips and her tongue traces my bottom lip before snaking into my mouth. I have to restrain the urge to bite down and my hands shake as I cling to her. It's her. It's not them.

Shiloh's hands trace down the contours of my back and move round to my chest and I shudder at the feeling, the loving way she moves. It's different. Never does she break the kiss and I'm fighting the desperate need to go, to leave, stop her. I drop like a stone to my knees and she still never breaks contact with me, her hands slipping into my hair as she kneels down herself.

I need to tell her to stop but I can't, I'm at a loss of words. I can't help but skim my hands up and down her back, sliding them under her tunic to touch to the warm skin at the small of her back and press her fiercely to me. I can't understand why she wants to be as disgusting as me, to know the degradation of the touches. She doesn't deserve to be sullied so. I make the move to get away but Shiloh locks me into the embrace, bringing me closer to her still.

I'm so ashamed of how my body reacts, the way I've hardened beneath my britches and smalls. I'm shaking all the way down to my bones with the humiliation that accompanies it. It's wrong to feel like this. This is why I'm not a person, why I'm a mere shell. I can't do this to her.

Then a small peal of laughter rings from her throat, drawing my attention from the disgust I feel about myself. What? "How have you hidden that from me?" Her voice is low, her breath ghosting against my ear, sending warm tendrils to pool in my lower stomach. Her touch is unsure as her hand trails down my chest and past my hips. No... don't - I want to grab her hand and stop her. But her touch is different, there's no trace of malice, no disgust or bile. I bow my head into her shoulder as her hand finally reaches and gently brushes against my sex. My breath racks inwards and I almost can't get enough air, the ghost of pain and pleasure. My teeth nip at the juncture between neck and shoulder bared by her large tunic and her breath quickens.

I want to tell her to stop, tell her everything. But it's not like before. There's no hate. My hands almost move of their own accord, both slipped under her tunic and roaming up the soft curve of her hip, the way her waist clinches before the backs of my fingers feel the play of abdominal muscles until the swell of her breasts, her pebbled nipples hard under the thin cloth of her breast band.

I clasp one between thumb and finger, the rest of my fingers almost shaking with the reverence of feeling her, how she's so candid with me, no shame. I pull my left hand away from under her tunic, still keeping the caress with my right as I pull my head from her shoulder and find her lips in the growing dark, my left hand wiping to cradle her jaw and brush the backs of my nails until she shudders as my fingers rub the tip of her long pointed ear. Her whole body is flush against mine and she moves to slip my tunic up and over my head.

I sit back on my heels a moment as she stares at my naked chest. There is no hatred in her eyes in the dark, no disgust at me and she slips her own tunic off, twisting her arms behind her back before her breast band falls carelessly away from her. Her body is nude in the moonlight, her dusky skin light in the depths of despair. Her breathing is uneven and her heartbeat almost thunders in my ears, her familial cold burning thrum of the Warden Taint so unique to her and so magnetic.

I almost rush to her, a dying man in need of breath, I cup her breasts upwards, my thumbs brushing sideways over her cold hardened nipples but the cold of the year and night is nothing compared to the hot of her skin, the way I feel her pulse under my lips as I worship at her neck. It means nothing compared to the way her skin sets mine on fire just by contact alone, the way her fingers tangle in my loose hair, the way her posture changes to almost thrust her ribcage forwards into my palms.

I gently lower her back into the grasses and lave down her collarbone until I reach the raspberry bud of her right breast and draw it into my mouth, suckling like a bairn, my teeth grazing the sensitive skin ever so slightly. Her breath hitches and a bubble of amusement settles in my throat, pulling at my lips into a small smile. I'm glad she's enjoying herself. I tear off from my suckling and continue downwards and she bends upwards. "What are you- Oh-" I halt her question as I tug at the hip of her hose, baring her legs to the air and nuzzle my nose into the gusset of her smalls, the smell of her is rapturous, her smallclothes damp with the moisture from her sex.

I push her hose away and hook her smallclothes under my thumbs, baring her completely.

Almost tortuously slowly I free her from the thin clothes and find myself back on my heels with her small feet in my lap. Her eyes are hooded, watching me for my next move and I run a long finger up and down the muscles in her calf, inching gradually further up with each circuit of movement.

"Are you sure?" I lean forward on my knees, Shiloh's knees beside my ears and she's almost shaking.

"Yes." She breathes, the word nearly makes me want to take her now but I'm not going to do so yet. This is her first time and despite her bad judgement in choosing me, this is going to be special for her. I smile to myself that she sees something under all that I am she wants. I can't see it myself but I'm not arguing at this point. The time seems to stretch endlessly as I trail my fingers down her inner thighs, the heat of them glorious next to the cold air.

I stroke downwards from nub to cunt , the end of my finger slicked with the moisture gathered there until I flick upwards. Shiloh whimpers, her hips bucking up at me and I purse my lips at the swelling feeling of accomplishment that fills me from the small reaction. So sensitive, and mine... here.

I bend forward onto my elbows and never break eye-contact with Shiloh as I lower to the downy curls between her legs. Her musky scent fills me, her slightly sweet taste as I flex my tongue over her nub until she's groaning and gasping, her hands curled into the hair at the nape of my neck. A very errant thought crosses my mind a moment and I change my angle slightly to slip my tongue teasingly into the tight slit of her cunt.

Shiloh's thighs tighten around my head and I start to hum slightly into her sex, building up the static needed to hold it on my tongue as she's squirming beneath my ministrations. Her fingers coil into the roots of my hair, tugging, her desperation edging closer until she's arching her ribcage into the night, my name spilling from her lips in a high pitched keening litany.

Shiloh sags back into the grasses, her breathing hard and heavy. Well, that's a sight I could never tire of seeing. It's radiant the almost glow about her. The way her bow lips turn up into a smile and I'm drawn like a moth to a flame to kiss those lips. Shiloh wipes the residue wetness off my mouth from her sex with the back of her hand before she kisses me, her hands clasping behind my neck to hold me in place.

I'm not going anywhere Shiloh. I thought I'd found purpose, I found the delirium in the recesses of my mind. I have you. What better purpose is there than to live the best life I can? With you.

My cock is practically straining at my britches now and I groan at the pressure, the fact I'm so close to her bared cunt and unable to sate the deep welling ache. Shiloh wraps her legs around my hips. Oh that doesn't help. That makes it just that bit worse.

I think she knows this. "How about you slip out of these britches?" Oh she knows. Little minx this was part of her plan. I smile to myself and kneel, pushing just the britches down for the moment.

Shiloh sits up and she's staring... why?


	22. (Musicalrain) The First

Author Note: How many of you had to google images of kittens after reading William's flashbacks last chapter? Because I did – not joking. The ending made up for it a bit? Maybe? Well this chapter will of course have warnings for explicit adult consensual content.

Also! I have made artwork for this chapter! It's nothing explicit, but here's the link: ( musicalrain0. deviantart. (com/) art/William-Amell-and-Shiloh-Tabris-384662500 )

Just remove the all the parenthesis and the spaces, and the link should work! :3

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

I mechanically move my whetstone in a practiced motion over Holly as I look distractedly at William's tent. I don't know... what happened to him in those ruins. Despite the gain in troops, I'm starting to think it wasn't worth going to the Dalish.

* * *

_I watch as William bends at the waist to pick up some sort of gem laying on the floor in the small room we just entered. He studies it for a moment before saying, "It's a phylactery."_

_"So destroy it and we shall deal with the werewolves no?" Zevran crosses his arms across his chest. Sometimes the assassin acts more like a girl than me. Feelings still hurt there bud?_

_"There's a mage inside it... trapped." William's voice calls my attention back to him. His eyes are not focused, but gazing at the gem phylactery all the while he speaks. "It wants to be free... there's a few words needed to free it..." He falls to his knees, and I step towards him concerned. I hear him mutter softly, "I want to remember my life," just before his body goes completely lax and he slumps backwards. I dash forward and manage to catch him before his head can smack against the rubble. _

_I shake his shoulders, "William." No answer. "William!"_

_I look over towards the only other two people with a fair bit of knowledge on magic. "What happened?!"_

_"Tis would see he is communicating with the trapped mage in the Fade," Morrigan replies, but Alistair clarifies, since I don't know what the fuck that has to do with anything,_

_"When a mage visits the Fade, only their mind travels." _

_I look down at him, "So... the gem phylactery took him to the Fade..."_

_I'm cut off from any further thought when William suddenly shouts out, "Mama!" What the sod all is he talking to the mage about? He thrashes, "No... don't do it. Please."_

_I look back at the others, "Is this mage hurting him?"_

_Morrigan takes a step closer and peers down at him critically. "I do not believe so. Twould seem an experience in the Fade is disturbing him."_

_"Well let's get him the fuck out of the Fade." I move to grab the gem from his hand, but the sodding witch's hand stops me, "I would not suggest that, Warden. A mage must leave the Fade on their own, or risk a Fade-death."_

_I set William carefully and quickly on the floor and stand to face the witch a little angrily. "Then what do you flaming suggest we do?! We can't leave him here like this!"_

_I hear William whimper and turn back to look at him. "...so scared..." His shoulders begin to shake, "I hurt." His head flings upwards a bit, "Maker - it hurts..."_

_"What the fuck is going on?!" I snarl and look at the witch and almost-templar. "Some one get him the Void out of the Fade."_

_"We cannot," the witch sniffles. "I do not employ the use of blood magic, and we do not have the lyrium or resources to send someone into the Fade to retrieve him." She crosses her arms, "He will have to do this on his own."_

_"The templar," he's crying. "I'll only be beaten" His whole body surges forward only to go limp again, "I'll be good..."_

_"Sodding shit!" What the fuck is happening? "I'm getting him out of the Fade!" I go to move forward, but Alistair grabs my shoulders holding me in place. "Let go of me you fucking..." I trail off. William's moving again. I watch as he blinks and moves his head. "He's awake!"_

_Alistair lets go of me, and I quickly pull William to me in a hug. He's shaking. "You worried us a moment there William."_

_He suddenly pulls away from me and looks more frightened than I've ever seen him, "Get away Everyone – go!" He's still holding that flaming gem, so I move to take it from him, but he goes limp again – he's back in the Blighted Fade._

_I bear my teeth and stand from my crouch to face the others again. "You're going to tell me we can't do anything!"_

_"Girlie," Oghren says to me. The smelly dwarf that was once my mentor has been starting to be my... friend lately. I look towards him and feel some of the steel leave my eyes. "I may just be a boulder pusher, but even I can tell er 'Fade-death' don't sound ta good."_

_I can't answer as my attention is drawn back towards William. He makes a pitiful sound and says, "Who... who are you?" His head moves from one side to the other. "What happened? How old am I?" He whimpers with each movement he makes. "I've been beaten..." _

_This has to fucking stop! My fists clench at my sides, but this time Oghren is the one to come to me to halt my movements. The dwarf puts a heavy hand on my elbow, but I watch William. "The templar... blood... he's getting closer."_

_I'm vibrating with the effort to keep still, and Oghren steps in front of me when I threaten to dash towards William. I can still curse though, "Fucking arseholes. I'll rip them apart!" Whatever is going on, it has something to do with templars. I can see that much. _

_William gasps for breath, and I can only help but watch as his gaze flickers to me briefly before his head snaps towards Alistair and he recoils in a desperation to flee. Oghren is still not letting me do shit, so I only watch as the Orlesian tries to soothe him. His movements are like that of a sodding frightened animal. "You're going to be alright."_

_He shakes his head sharply, "You're dead... you're dead." He brings the hand still clutching the fucking gem to his chest, and we can all hear him as he tries to whisper to it, "You're going to show me the rest of those memories or you'll wish you were in there trapped." He fucking goes limp again. Why hasn't anyone ripped that gem from him?!_

_"Commander," the witch addresses me and I snap my heated glare at her. "This does not seem to be coming to an end any time soon. There are still the werewolves to be concerned with."_

_"Are you suggesting we leave him here?" I growl. "You can fucking forget it."_

_"I'll stay with him," the Orlesian says. "I'll ensure his safety while you complete our task."_

_Why... would she offer to do that? I frown. They all... have a fucking point though. Ugh. "Fine," I agree reluctantly. There's still Dalish turning from the infection, and we need our sodding troops. "We'll be back quick." I push past Oghren and step closer to her. "Keep him safe. If he's hurt, you'll regret it," I threaten. She bows her head in acquiescence and we leave. I... leave him with the sodding Orlesian._

* * *

I've thought back on what happened there in those ruins a lot in the week since we cured the werewolves. I've been able to piece together that when William spoke to the mage in the gem phylactery, it was able to show him his memories that were lost, as he said, "you're going to show me the rest of those memories..." He was obviously asking it to do that. Why? He was so upset... Why would he want to see something so... upsetting? And he's been worse since... since I left him with the Orlesian. Leliana won't tell me what happened. She would only say it was obvious he was suffering, and when he came to he found that sword he's taken to and was able to make a strong flame.

We didn't have an easy time of it either – having to deal with a vindictive blood mage. But I think William might have had it worse...

* * *

_I look at the Keeper with a stern expression. All this... madness over something horrible that happened, yes, but a long sodding time ago. "You'll end that curse even if I have to make you."_

_He backs up and pulls his staff from his back as he shouts threateningly, "Then you all will die! All you you will suffer as you deserve!" Shit. Well, if he wants a fight, he'll get one._

_I pull Holly from my back and shout to the others. "At arms!"_

_Zathrian pounds his staff into the ground as he slides his hand over the bladed end, cutting open his hand only for the blood to circle around him in a continuous web – sodding blood mage! Shit._

_"Alistair with me!" The kinda-templar can smite him if we can get him over to the Dalish quick enough. _

_Suddenly the blood flies out in tendrils to land with resounding 'bangs' against the few trees lining the ancient room. Those... trees shake and sprout arms – they've turned into those demonic sylvans!_

_"Everyone else on those sodding trees!"_

_Alistair, with his shield at the ready, flanks as I allow red, not from blood magic but from rage, enter my vision and fuel my charge. The Dalish's blood magic squeezes through the gaps in my armor to burn and boil at my skin – between my plates, my helm, my boots. Those are just surface wounds though, and the pain of them fuels my anger further. _

_We near and he manipulates his blood to form a shield of sorts, only to push it towards us with enough force to stagger. Fucking arsehole. I regain my footing quickly and slash at the mage's unarmored arm, only for the blood of the wound to fuse with my armor and attempt to embed in my flesh. I fall to my knees in an attempt to resist the pain, at the same time Alistair shouts out and the rushing feeling of cool air passes to coalesce in a vortex around the mage. Zathrian too falls to his knees, and Alistair takes the time to cleanse the area of magic with a white puff of smoke. I hear heavy thumps as the demonic sylvans fall to the ruin floor in heaps from the loss of the blood magic fueling them._

_It's over. The Lady of the Forest approaches, and it's not long until they come to terms to end this sodding curse._

* * *

We had to do so very much to end a curse that had lasted centuries, and the person to end that curse listened to reason. Eventually listened to me – and yet William won't. He... won't talk to me. I set aside my whetstone and stand with renewed determination. I'm going to sodding talk to William.

"William." All I can hear is heavy breathing from within his tent. "William. I want to speak with you. Get out of your tent now." I'm greeted by silence again. He... he still won't talk to me. Well, we're going to talk! I'm not having him end up like that hermit we saw. It's a fear that seems more and more like a striking reality.

"William," I repeat and stick my head through the canvas flaps of his tent. He's laying in a ball on his bedroll. Hardly moving and breathing heavily. It... I can't see him like this anymore. What the fuck am I supposed to do? "Out of the tent - You've barely spoken five words in a string in a week." If that was a little pushy, it was worth it, because he finally replies,

"Aye." When he turns to look towards me – it doesn't even seem like he is. His eyes aren't focused, red-edged, and if anything he seems... lost. Very lost. Shit. He's not acting like this anymore! It's been a sodding week! Whatever the fuck happened to him, I can't let it destroy him!

My face settles in a stern expression, "Out of the tent before I drag you out." He blinks at me – his eyes finally focusing on my face, and he slowly gets up. There we go. _Some _progress.

I keep looking at him as we walk. He... he actually looks afraid of me, I think. He glances at me periodically too as I lead him through the trees. He's... I don't know what to think. I'm taking him far away from camp though. Our conversation won't be for people to overhear. It's... personal. I'd hate to think of what were to happen if Zevran or even the witch overheard. The repercussions of people he's not close to hearing something so very personal. But, we've got to talk. This has to end. I... miss William. He's – fuck I don't know what to do. I really don't.

I look at him when we stop in an alcove of trees. He still looks afraid; withdrawn. "You're retreating into yourself," I begin. My tone may have been a little accusatory, because I see him visibly stiffen – venom entering his gaze.

"I'm not." That was... harsh.

"Don't give me that bullshit." Be pissy at me – I'll be pissy back. "It's like your journal... you're so..." How the sod do you describe what I read? But he interrupts my thoughts.

"The journal is gone. Burnt." He's starting to sound angry. But he is talking some. At least the emotions are making him talk.

"Well that was a few words." I sigh. I have the compulsion to... I don't know. Pace and cry? I can't describe it very well. "You don't even speak to me," I continue softly. Why can't he even talk to me? That's a good question. I thought he... trusted me. It seemed he did, before... all this crap.

"I don't need to speak." His eyes close briefly and when he opens them – I can't look away from the emotion boiling there. "I don't want to hurt anymore." His voice cracked on those words. Wouldn't a way to fix his pain be to talk? I can't help him unless he tells me what's wrong.

"Why not?" I try asking as gently as I can – which since I'm a _little _emotional, probably isn't all that gentle.

"Why the fuck would anyone want to hurt?" He barks at me. "I'm broken. I'm unclean. I can't get rid of it!" He looks down at his hands and trembles ever so slightly. My heart is breaking for him... Just watching him. I-I need to help. I have to do something.

I move a little closer to him, slowly to not startle him. He's more frightened than a child witnessing their first mugging. "You're not William." I touch his trembling hand slightly, and he balls it into a fist and pulls back. He's not doing this. I reach out with both hands and hold onto his fist, warming the skin with my own in the cool air. "You're not," I try to reassure him. He's not broken – he's hurt. And he can regain himself. I know he can. He's stronger than this.

"They did this," he says in a harsh whisper. 'They' clearly being the templars. "Just go. Everything I touch becomes ashes." Nuh-uh. He's not making me leave – I'm not sodding leaving. I've left him alone for too long already. He needs me. And I... need him.

"I'm not going anywhere." He watches me as I hug him, curling my arms around his torso slowly. He doesn't move – that's good. Don't make me leave... "My place is here." That-that's true. He has to know. He must. I can't see him like this anymore. I have to show him that he's not what he thinks he is. That I'm here... That I care for him.

Shit. That I... love him. Oh sod – I do. That's... that's what this is. But I won't say that. I can't. Not now. I'll... I'll show him. That's a damned good idea. He... I know he cares for me too. He must. If... if even like this he lets me come to him.

I step on my toes as far as I can reach and I place my lips lightly over his dry, cracked ones. It's just a soft touch, but he freezes. Within a heartbeat later, he returns the kiss with enough urgency and force to push my head back some. It feels like... William. He's coming back to himself! It's... he does! His arms wrap around me, and I kiss him back just as much. I push my lips against his harshly, just before opening slightly to lick at his bottom lip. The taste of William floods my senses, and I can't help but groan. I force my tongue into his mouth (I can't help myself), and as my tongue swipes across his softly I feel his hands start to shake. He needs this... He-he does. I'll show him what I feel. I'll show him how much he means to me.

My hands flutter softly down his tunic-clad back as I try to comfort him. I start to bring my hands up along his chest, and his legs start to collapse. Stay with me William. I lower myself to my own knees, my lips locked with his own, and I can't help myself when my hands thread through his loose hair. It's still so silky soft. At least since this has started he's been keeping himself clean. Maybe too clean though – Alistair did say he thought he saw the water a little red. William... I need to show him he's loved. If-if he knows, maybe he'll stop. Maybe he'll be William again.

I'm distracted from my thoughts when he starts to reciprocate my soothing motions by moving his hands up and down my back. That's... so good. Oh – that's better. His large hands slide under my tunic to settle at the curve of my lower back. He pushes me towards him and I let him. He needs this. I need this.

He tries to pull away, but I quickly pull him back as I adjust my legs so our chests are completely flush with one another. He's shivering, and I try to soothe him by bringing him as close as I can to me. He needs this contact. He needs this. But... oh. Apparently he really _likes _this too. I can't help the feminine laugh that I loose at my not-so-little discovery.

I lean my head against the side of his and whisper in his ear, "How have you hidden that from me?" I say teasingly, and teasingly start to lower my hands along the small gap between our bodies from my movements. I've never... but _Maker _I want to. I'm a terrible virgin. But maybe... He allows me to continue to touch him as I bring my hands carefully further and further along his chest and past his hips. When one of my hands lightly brushes against his straining cock, he all but collapses and lowers his head to rest against my shoulder and neck. His breath stutters as he gasps for breath. I'll take that as a good reaction then. In retaliation though for my touch, his teeth scrape against the space where my neck meets my shoulder. Oh that feels so good.

My hand brushes against him repeatedly, as the other settles on his thigh, and his hands start to move under my tunic. He brings them around to touch my hips softly, then my waist (oh sweet Maker), and he ghosts over my hard muscles on my stomach and further. His fingers continue to ascend until he meets my breast band and flutter along my small breasts and nipples. Oh do not stop. I'm not even touching his cloth-covered cock any more as focused as I am on his damnable fingers.

Oh sweet... fuck. He pinches one of my nipples shakily with two of his fingers – and he better not sodding stop. One of his hands moves (not the pinching one, thank the Maker) at the same time that he raises his head to kiss me. The hand that had left moves with the lightest of touches with the backs of his nails along my jaw – and my _ear. _I feel an unfamiliar burn with increasing intensity low in my stomach, and when he fucking brushes his nails against the tip and I shudder (he so knows), my whole body lurches in a flurry of action.

I push myself against him roughly and grab for his tunic. I pull it over him, his hands completely leaving me so I can, and I look at his chest. Fucking Maker I want to _lick _him. I'm positively buzzing with desire when I make a decision – I want him. And I want him to want me. I want to share myself with him. He... I trust him. I sodding love him. I know I do, and when our eyes meet and I see the pure clarity there – William – I know he does too. William loves me.

I maintain eye contact with him as I pull my own tunic over my head. I boldly reach behind myself and undo my breast band. We both want this. The cloth falls away, and I'm as bared as he from the chest up. He gazes at my exposed skin hungrily – not a single flicker of disgust at my lack of significant feminine curve or my small breasts. Our eyes meet again, and he lunges for me. His lips meet my neck the same time his warm hands meet my breasts. Oh sweet Andraste and the Maker. My hands grasp onto his shoulders as his thumbs brush against both my pinching nipples, the feeling of them responding to his touch almost too much. So different than anything... anything at all. Don't stop.

My fingers move from his shoulder to his hair as he nibbles wonderfully at my throat all the while his hands play with my breasts. So-so wonderful. I push myself closer, and a moment later his hands are moving back to my back and I realize I'm moving backwards – that he's moving me. My skin (so hot) hits the cold grass and I shudder at the contrast. His mouth kisses and licks at my skin moving until he reaches my breast. Oh sweet fuck. I am aware of nothing other than his suckling on my nipple, and the play of his teeth against my flesh. The feeling so much, that I can't even sodding breathe properly. Oh William don't you dare stop.

But... he does. Sodding son of a... I crane my neck forwards to see why he's sodding stopped, "What are you- Oh-" He pulls at my hose, quickly pulling them off my legs. Do that, yes. I watch as he brings his face slowly to my smalls, his hair falling over my thighs as he nuzzles into the fabric. I feel a pulse twitch within me low and near where he's nuzzling. Sweet fuck again. I don't even know why he's doing that, but sweet Andraste do that all you want.

His hands move to push my loose boots and hose away and off my legs. My legs completely free from their confines fall ever so slightly apart, and he watches my movements with rapt attention. His hands smooth up my thighs, and I watch, completely focused, as his thumbs curl around my smalls and begin to pull them down. I'm positively vibrating in an unfamiliar mix of anticipation, eagerness, the strongest desire I've ever felt when he _finally _sodding takes of the smalls completely.

I watch him – I can't help it. He runs an index finger up and down my calf, between my legs as they yet again fell open, getting gradually higher with each movement. My muscles are jumping at the slight touch. He better not stop. I open my legs further in encouragement.

"Are you sure?" His voice calls my attention to his lips, deep and rasp, but the attention doesn't stay long as he bends over me his head coming right between my knees. I fine shiver settles over me. Am I sure? Yes... yes I am. I love him. I trust him. I _want_ him.

"Yes." I answer and he smiles. William is coming back to me. He wants this as much as me. The fingers of the hand that was moving along my calf settle on my leg and he moves them slowly upwards along my inner thing. Oh sweet fuck. I near-whimper when finally touches where the pulsing heat of my body is strongest. Don't stop. His broad index finger presses against my slit from top to bottom – and then he fucking flicks his finger upwards to hit the throbbing point. I don't even fully realize that my hips move as my eyes squeeze shut and I whimper. Holy shit.

I force my eyes open to see what he does next, and his gaze holds mine as he completely bends over to lean on his elbows. His face is so, so close. I can feel his breath _right there_. Then his face bends to me. What the sod is he – oh. Is that... that's so his tongue. My mind is completely devoid of any thoughts other than _oh sweet Maker _and _don't stop _as he swipes his tongue over and over that pulsing nub. I can't even properly describe what I feel – I'm so tingly... and hot. So hot. My hands are in his hair, I know, and I'm vaguely aware of the noises I'm making, but I can't think of that as he sodding puts his tongue _in me. _Holy _fuck_.

I can't help it when my thighs clench around his head holding him in place as... I think he's doing that flaming electricity trick on his fucking _tongue. _I feel completely out of control as the burn between my thighs pulses and the tingling pressure is just _too much_. I can feel the tingling all the way to my toes, and I start muttering his name helplessly in response to the feeling. The pressure builds, and builds until I can't take it anymore and I fall apart helplessly, twitching, and my vision blackening as I cry out in pleasure. Holy sodding fuck.

Oh... I don't want to move. That was, that was like absolutely _nothing _I've ever felt before. Way, way better than the handful of times I've tried to touch myself. How the fuck does his tongue _do that_?

I open my eyes though, and I see him watching me with dark, hooded eyes. He looks pleased with himself. Fucking – I'm pleased with you too. I smile at him, I'm _so happy_, and he crawls over me. He looks happy too. I can see the wetness from myself on his face, and I wipe it off of his lips with the back of my hand before I raise my face to kiss him. I fucking love him. I curl my hands around his neck and hold him as our lips move together. He's staying. I want this.

He groans. Oh, yes. I did not forget about that. Nope. He wants this too, so let's get on with it. I lift my legs to wrap around his slim hips, and I feel him as he stiffens as I bring us closer together.

I pull back and feel a smirk playing on my lips, "How about you slip out of these britches?" He smiles back, shaking his head ever so slightly, as he leans back to kneel and remove said britches. He leaves his smalls on, but Holy Maker's flaming _fuck_. That – he... holy shit. I sit up and draw closer. My hands reach his waist, but all my attention is below. He... his cock is stiff, and even through his smalls it's nearly as high as his navel. I can see a patch of wetness near the tip on the tented cloth in the fading light too. I bite my lip and look up at him, "C-can I?" Oh... my breath hitched a little. I see his dark, wide eyes flicker over my face and he nods slightly. I bring both my hands down his waist to settle at his hips, and move my left hand to brush against that patch of wetness. He shivers and grabs my wrist away. He brings it up to kiss my palm, and when he lets go he moves both his hands to the edge of his smallclothes. Oh... he wants to do it. Okay. I sit back on my feet and watch as he moves the fabric down. He shifts it just a little bit before he removes the fabric quickly, and kicks it off his long legs. Holy shit.

Now, I've seen cocks before (drunks like to strip), but... not like this. The skin is flush, and he's wider than I thought he would be... and longer. Holy shit again. That's supposed to fit where now?

"Shiloh." I look up at him. Did he sound amused? He is smirking... Well, let's sate my curiosity, shall we? I maintain eye contact with him as I reach out my left hand and stop myself just short of touching. I'll need his permission, just like he asked for mine. He gives me the slightest of nods after a moment. His eyes were a little uncertain, but now they're not. I run my fingers down the side of him. Andraste it's hot.

Both his hands suddenly cup my face, and our bared chests meet flush with each other as he kisses me eagerly. My hand is pushed out of the way from the force of his fervency, and his cock is pressed against my stomach as he moves. Maker...

His hands move from my face to my upper and lower back, and I'm going backwards to meet the grass again. He moved with me all the while, and settles himself on his knees between my spread thighs. His surprisingly hot cock is pressed against my hip as he kisses me as if he were to die without. His tongue is sliding against my own, flitting against the sensitive roof of my mouth – and I groan. This is so sodding good. Don't you dare stop.

I wrap my legs back around him, tucking my feet beneath his bared arse and shove my hands roughly into his loose hair. He shifts a little on his elbows, our lips still together, when I _feel_ it. He's moved so now the tip of his cock is brushing lightly against my sex. Oh sodding Maker. I want him to fuck me. I want him so much I could cry out in frustration.

He pulls back, both of us gasping for breath, and his eyes search mine with a familiar concerned gaze. William's very much back now. I could cry. He smiles so lovingly before he bends his head down to whisper in my ear, "Are you sure Shiloh?"

I nod, one hand in his hair and the other on his neck. "Yes. I want you." How I managed more than one word, I do not know. He visibly shudders and moves to gaze back at me. I can watch nothing but his eyes as I catch his right arm moving in my peripheral vision, until I feel his arm brush against my thigh and my sex as he grasps his own. He pushes his head against my entrance, and he plants a sloppy panting kiss on my lips as he forces the head in just slightly. Oh that feels... so _different_. He pushes in slowly peppering me with kisses all over my face the entire time, but I'm only semi-aware of this as... holy shit fuck damn. Is that... supposed to feel like that? It-it actually... hurts. A different kind of pain than I've ever felt before, and I can't ignore it. I think my nails are digging into his scalp and I try very, very hard not to move. William must be able to tell my discomfort because he stops moving, his hand leaves his cock to settle on my lower stomach and I feel his familiar healing aura as he dims the slight pain burning there.

"It's okay Shiloh," he whispers against my forehead, his hand still on my stomach as he moves his hips forward pushing his cock against something... something that feels like it-it ripped. His tentative healing aura and his faced pressed against my own calm me some as I take large mouthfuls of air. That was... probably my maidenhead. I'm not a virgin anymore... I gave William my virginity. That thought clears through the fog of discomfort that I've felt, and I bend my head just slightly to kiss William's cheek. I can feel his smile against my own, and his hips move forward again... slowly, very slowly. I can tell he's trying to be careful with me. He loves me. He doesn't want to hurt me.

He stops moving when he can't anymore and he gives me a light kiss on my nose. I'm trying not to move again, as there's still a slight pinching and burning feeling where he's seated in me. He hand moves up and down the side of my stomach and my hip, and he bends his head to whisper to me, "Relax." I take in a large breath of air, and close my eyes in an effort to do just that. My fingers start to move in small circles on his scalp as I physically try to unclench my muscles from the neck down. When I finally do though... it doesn't hurt. It feels... nice. My eyes flutter open and I blink up at him. He's staring at me with a mixture of emotions on his face, and I smile softly just before I reach up to kiss his lips. He kisses me back, as he moves his hips back some and then slowly forward with the slightest of force... oh. He better sodding do that again.

He does. And he's careful as with each thrust he pulls out just a little bit more each time, adding just a little bit more force. I watch his face as he concentrates, sweat beading on his forehead, and he's so... amazing. To do this, this slowly is difficult for him. I can tell that much. But... it doesn't hurt anymore. It's feels really, really fucking good. I'm gasping and moaning with every thrust. It's so different than anything, anything at all... And I love it. And I love him. I tighten my legs around his hips, tucking my feet firmer under his arse, and I think he gets the hint. His face bows to the crook between my shoulder and neck, his breath hot against my skin, as he starts moving with a little less care and a little more urgency. Holy sodding fuck.

I'm fairly certain I said that aloud because William groaned, and it almost sounded like a growl. Almost. I feel... on fire, but that's not a good enough word for it. It's like before, with his tongue, but not. So different, and, "shit," I pant. He moved his hips differently that time. Whatever the fuck he did it felt really, really good. Do that the sod again. Oh – he does. I pull him closer, my chest hot against his own, and he picks up the speed of his thrusts significantly. Holy Maker.

I don't even know what the sod I'm saying, but I can feel nothing but _him_. I can feel everything – his breath, our sweat, the rub of skin against skin and so much more. I'm also pretty sure I'm close to ripping out his hair.

His right hand that had settled to grip my thigh moves. What the fuck's he doing? His hand settles on my stomach and inches lower until his thumb brushes – oh shit. I feel my entire body go stiff with the suddenness of the jolt at my nub, an intense burning and tingling feeling arching through me, and I'm pretty damned sure I screamed his name. He grunts my name in return, as I feel my body tensing around him and he thrusts _hard. _I feel a sudden warmth in me, and he thrusts once more before he leans heavily on his elbows panting just as much as me. Holy fucking Maker and everyone else.

My legs slide off his hips after a moment, as they're completely numb, and he pulls out his softening cock from me. He kisses each of my eyelids delicately (when did I close them?), and I open my eyes to see him smiling widely and tiredly at me. My hands remove themselves from his scratched scalp, and I grasp his shoulders to pull him to me. I hug him, I'm not letting go, and he hugs me with one arm as he's still supporting himself with the other.

"William," I whisper against his neck. "Don't go." If that sounded a little sodding desperate, I don't care.

He kisses me on the lips tiredly and meets my gaze as he says, "I'm not going anywhere lass."


	23. (Apollo Wings) The Aftermath

Author note: We're good... We're damn good aren't we - just smile to yourself and type a comment saying 'thumbs-up' if you enjoyed the last two chapters (maybe not the first half of Chapter 21). I know how blush-y people can get over reading smut. And a note - he's still not too much at peace with his past. Sex doesn't cure everything.

I thank you all for sticking with us for so long (we're no-where finished yet but I thought I'd say it as we near 200k words) and I can announce that we actually have planned sequels. Yes - there is hmmm... including this book... six books planned in the A Joint Journey universe. So when we're done here we'll be writing a lot more.

* * *

**William Amell **

"I'm not going anywhere lass." And I mean it. I really mean it you amazing woman. I could lay here so filled and empty at the same time forever, our racing heartbeats in my very bloodstream. Shiloh closes her eyes and I move to her side, resting on my forearm still, my other arm draping to rest so naturally on her breast. "I... I love you." It feels like so much to even say it but I mean it. I really do.

Shiloh tenses slightly under my arm and I fill with deep seated crushing pain. "I love you too." The feeling vanishes almost as immediately as it began, instead a warmth extending from the top of my head to the tips of my toes in it's place and I tiredly settle into the warm pulse of her throat. I could stay here forever.

Wait - how long have we been gone from camp? We walked for... I have no idea how long before getting here. Then the time... doing things. If they send Zevran, Oghren or Leliana we'll never hear the end of it for being caught as naked as newborn bairns. "We _should_ move... but I don't want to." I breathe into her neck, lightly kissing the pulse point.

"Not moving." Shiloh sighs, her chin stretching upwards to invite me to nuzzle further. No... I'm moving. It's bad enough that we _could_ be caught. I'm not getting caught in the nude. I sit up on the grasses and reach over to my smalls, britches and boots. They're closest and if I can't find my tunic... because where in the Void is my tunic? Then at least I'm covered. "Fine... where's my tunic? Where the sod is my breast band?"

I have no clue... we sort of ripped our clothes off. And it's cold now while we're not touching. I dress as quickly as possible and do eventually find my tunic (and it's mine because it still has ink stains). And Shiloh manages to hunt down all her clothes too. Which is good because her walking to camp topless would stir up more than me doing so. "Thank you." I need to feel her close to me again and hunch into hugging her close, her faint honey almond smell and natural musk lighting up my senses.

"Thank you for coming back to me." She smiles into my chest and I close my eyes, my chin resting atop her head. I'm glad I'm back. The pains of the past are still burning in my veins, still just as freshly sharp, but I'm reminded. I want to live in the moment and when the moment is with Shiloh even the Blight seems a small thing to face.

We walk hands clasped back to camp, the silence comfortable and not awkward as it was before.

"He's smiling again!" Leliana whoops as she spots us and Ward bounds over to Shiloh and... sniffs her crotch before looking at me with the dirtiest look a dog can muster. Not a growl but still a proper stink-eye at me. Don't look at me like that!

"Stretch broken his face then?" Oghren stumbles out of his tent and looks a little cross-eyed at Shiloh before turning to the templar. "Pike twirler! You're the only one left now!" What does he mean? Oh... I think I remember this conversation. Oghren can smell 'virginity' on the templar.

"Maker's breath!" He groans. "In the forest?"

"Where else?" Shiloh is blushing a deep red and I'm pretty sure I am. I should have expected this. I really should have. Devious people we travel with.

"You two are so adorable!" Leliana half squealed in delight and I put my palm up to my face. This isn't happening. It's worse than the tradition of airing out the sheets after a wedding to make sure... shit. I should warn Shiloh that she might bleed a little. In private. I tried to be gentle but it's not like you can heal a maidenhead.

I just took her virginity. Shiloh let me... Maker's teeth. I... I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking straight. This wasn't how it was supposed to have happened. "William?" Shiloh is speaking to me. I just blanked for a moment. "Are you alright?" She gestures to my hand limp in hers.

"I... I'm fine." She narrows her eyes at me. Don't do that - I'm fine.

"Well I'm a little tired." She took in a deep breath. "So you get first watch with the Orlesian. Oghren, the Witch and Alistair on second. I've got third with Ward and Zevran."

"He he he he... who wants ta bet how long I'll be before they're in each others pants?" Oghren chuckles before the templar groans and Morrigan is coming over from her secluded little camp with a frown on her face.

"I shall not be forced to work with that fool."

"How in the Maker's name do you shems not hear Zevran and Amyrah fucking and you hear watch duty shifts from all the way over there?" Shiloh slaps her hand down the side of her face. "I don't care - you do as I ask coz we're not repeating Orzammar." She brushed up against me and kisses the edge of my jaw, her lips almost on my earlobe when she whispers. "We were all worried. Even the Orl- Leliana. Talk to everyone. We all missed you."

I gulp back and kiss her cheek, my voice dropping to a whisper like hers. "I'll try. But I'm not talking to the templar. I can't... I can't go near him." She nods grimly.

"I think even the Witch missed your babbling." She rolls her eyes. "But alright. Talk to people though. You need to keep that brain of yours occupied."

"Quick word of warning before you sleep then Shiloh." I drop my voice even further until my lips are practically on her ear. "There might be a wee bit of... blood. It's normal."

* * *

They saved me some of the vegetable soup that they had for dinner. Shiloh's soup is wonderful and I heat it in the palm of my hand - careful not to make it too hot before bringing a spoonful of the chunky stuff up to my lips. "I am glad you are feeling better." Leliana sipped a little of her own soup. It is good - so I don't think anyone would blame her for having seconds.

"I'll never be better." I look morosely at the vegetables floating on my spoonful before eating them. I can't turn back time, I can't stop them from doing what they did. I was only seven when it started. The memories filled into my mind almost haphazardly after the truth of the matter came out. Every time Meddolwen stopped a memory was one of the times... "It's not the sort of thing that just disappears."

"But speaking lessens your pain no? The things the templars did to you..." Her eyes are unfocused as she stares into the night before she pulls the blanket she had draped over her shoulders a little closer, the steam from her soup wafting over her face. She looks just like Enchanter Helena. It's scary what a doppelganger she is to the dead woman. Wait - how did she know what happened?

"Explain. Now." I put my spoon down in the soup with a slight clatter, bringing her out of the little daze she was in and I squint at the bard who says she's not a bard.

"Y-you were so scared." Her voice shook. "One could easily guess what happened to you. You... spoke as your got your memories back."

"From seven to thirteen." It's like a little weigh shifted off my shoulders saying it. My anger at her is gone but my teeth are still clamped together. "There isn't a person alive or dead who deserves it."

"I know." Her entire posture changes, curling into herself. "We're alike in some respects." I don't know how to respond.

"Shiloh hugs people when they're sad..." She nods at my roundabout sort of question and leans her head on my shoulder. "How did you cope?"

"I found the Maker." I snort uncontrollably and Leliana just sighs. "That wouldn't work for everyone no."

"It's because of their infallible fucking Maker that they did it. All the while they did it they preached His word. I can't see a world where the Maker would allow them to even think of such..." I my nails are digging into my palms. "Sorry. I know it helped you but that isn't the path I'm likely to tread lass."

"I understand." She finishes up her soup still leaning on me ad I have to use my left hand to actually eat my own soup from my lap as if I move my right arm I'll jostle her.

Eventually her breathing evens out into a slow rhythmic pattern and I scoot off the log we've been sitting on and take her bowl off her lap, tucking her blanket around her. Morrigan is striding over to us... wonderful.

"The Chantry sister fell asleep." She states, the venom in her voice evident and I fight the urge to grab the bitch's throat and squeeze. She doesn't know what Leliana and myself have both gone through. I thought she'd looked sad when she first joined our group. But that's because she gave up her coping mechanism. "How pathetic." Oh I really want to strangle her now.

"I suggest you keep your lips shut before I meld them shut." I hiss at her the flames already in my hands. For what it's worth she doesn't flinch. Not an inch does she budge.

"Keep talking like that and there will be nightmares that rival the darkspawn ones your Wardens whimper so about." Her golden eyes flash and her hands are aglow with the orange entropy magics, mirroring my stance.

"You have no idea what a reprieve those are." I spit before turning face from her and slowly going toward my tent. "You're not worth even burning."

"You should keep such thoughts in your head lest I save your skin." She sneers at my back. Ha! As if!

"I doubt it." I push into my tent and kick off my boots before slipping into my bedroll. Fucking bitch of a witch. If she wasn't so self-centered she'd realize just how broken so many of us are. I might have been a right bastard this last week but I wasn't sneering every three seconds at everyone given the opportunity.

* * *

On our last day in the forest my Warden senses seemed to chill all the way down to my bones. And by the looks of it the templar and Shiloh felt it too. I grasped the pommel of my new Arcane Warrior staff and drew upon my willpower. I can't see darkspawn but I feel them.

Then the shrieks descended on us almost from the shadows of the trees, gamboling toward us on their blade-like arms and legs. Leliana loosed a volley of arrows at them and I discharged bolts of lightning into their midst alongside the ice spikes Morrigan cast.

Three went down in the initial ranged attack and Shiloh growled. "Leliana and Ward - protect the mages and the cart - everyone else - up front!"

No - I don't need to be protected so. I broke formation and dashed forward, moving about the shriek that decided we mages were the primary targets and slashed down it's bony back, moving the _katana_ - where did that thought come from? It almost sounded like Meddolwen in my head still. But she's not there... The blade - katana lit up with flames and I flicked the magic at the shriek, burning through it's tainted flesh quickly.

There was a grunt from behind me and Shiloh was panting, Holly shoved up to the pommel down the throat of a shriek that had tried to get me. "Keep in formation!" I stayed where I was as I froze the two shrieks that were behind her with a cone of cold, the icicles growing from the earth and she turned about, shattering their frozen bodies with Holly.

The fight was over pretty quickly but the feeling of darkspawn remained. Leliana was leaning into the spindly creatures, returning arrows to her quiver and Morrigan pulled a lyrium potion from her belt pouch, gulping back the blue liquid, trails of it running down her throat and... chest. Maker woman - she should put _some_ clothes on. The templar eyed her, his face almost bursting a blood vessel. Not getting involved.

I don't like either of them. Obvious reasons for both I'm sure. "Please!" I whipped my head to see two figures, skin blackened and peeling from their bodies, leather armor sodden with vile tainted blood. They crawled the floor, arms in between the blades of shrieks and muscular forearms. They're - elves. I can - feel their presence. "Please kill us!"

The only one with any hair - blond and male tried to stand before faltering back to the forest floor. Maker... their pain. I feel it. "Did you have names?" Shiloh asked as she drew out her belt knife.

"Was once Tamlen." The male one that was bald, just a few wisps of mouse-brown hair remaining spoke.

"Kivern." The blond one whispered and his blade like arm edged toward Tamlen. "Please... please kill us lethallan!" Their hands met and the two elves almost hugged to each other, tainted blood dripping from them both as sharp fingers latched to each others faces and their lips met. Shiloh squatted down and her knife went easily into the thinned skin and leathers of the blond first, severing his spine before she yanked the knife out and moved to the bald one.

"Ma serannas lethallan." Tamlen breathed before his life was ended. Shiloh pulled the knife sharply out, putting it back to her belt and shakily stood. She almost collapsed into my arms, her embrace fierce and I tucked her head under my chin.

"They used to be elves." Her voice shook almost as much as she was. "That could be me."

"I'd never let that happen." I pulled her in closer despite the dig of her armor in my ribs and stomach.

* * *

It was good to be out of the Forest and the thinned Veil that seemed to leak demons. The colder air was horrid though. Argh. My tent was like a little steam room after I heated the air a bit and I shucked off my robes and tunic, laying back into a warm bedroll. Love this. Just wearing my britches and having a think in my tent.

I'm wondering exactly where we're traveling. We have one treaty left to fulfill and the templar's idea of going to Redcliffe to ask Arl Eamon for troops. After that - I have no clue - try to march an army of Dalish, dwarves, mages and possibly Arl Eamon's troops on the Archdemon - wherever it is?

Not that I want to do either really. Because one was his idea and the other requires going back to the tower. I shudder just to think of being around the templars. One is enough. -_knock_- My tent shook a little.

"Can I come in?" Oh - Shiloh... why does my satchel always spill everywhere in my tent? I swear it doesn't like staying shut once on the floor. Damned thing. "Unless you happen to be naked I'm coming in." There was a brief pause. "In fact - I'm coming in faster if you are naked."

"Not naked lass." I say just as her head pokes through the tent flaps.

"Maker's breath William - it's like a steam room in here!" My thoughts exactly - hence my half dressed state. Her eyes rake hungrily up and down my body and I feel a full body blush coming on. "I'm coming in - I'm freezing my tits off here."

"Should I warm them?" I smirk as she drops a bedroll on the floor and starts to unroll it. What the...

"Only if you want to." She smiles at me. "Oh - I'm sharing your tent. Oghren broke mine. He fell on it and broke the poles holding it up. I hope that offer of sharing body heat is still valid."

"It's valid." I think I squeaked. Maker - she's wonderful. "Did Oghren actually break your tent?" She lays down on her bedroll, her tunic and hose covered body close to me and kicks off her boots.

"I wanted to share a tent with you I suppose. But yeah - he did." Her hand trails up my chest before brushing downwards to play with the bit of hair that trails on my lower stomach. I gulp. Maker she affects me. I've barely been touched and I'm already at half-mast.

"So where is Ward sleeping now?" Can't leave him out in the cold. I think I'd suffer the smelly beast in here if it makes this gorgeous, amazing woman next to me happy.

"With Alistair. But..." She leans up to my ear, brushing my long hair from it before her lips are almost touching. "I have a question."

"Go ahead." I think I'm putty in her hands. Speaking of her hands she's inching closer to...

"Is that a sword in your britches or are you happy to see me?" The giggle that accompanies her words vibrates in my neck as her lips press on them.

"Depends." I turn on my hip to put a hand on the clinch of her waist, rubbing small circles into one of the little dimples on her back. "Would a sword be a good idea to fend off the attentions of a beautiful lass?"

"It might attract certain ones not fend them off." Her breath is hotter than the room against my skin and her hands trails lazily up my torso. "Is that a scar?" Her head moves away from me, her brows pinched together as she scrutinizes my shoulder where her hand had moved to.

"I have lots... from the templars." I shiver as she runs a finger down the one my right shoulder tattoo covers.

"And there's one under your eye!" Shiloh traces the faint change in texture under my facial tattoo. "Holy shit William! How many scars do you have?" She's pulled ramrod straight in a seated position - scanning me with her eyes critically. "How haven't I seen these before?"

"Because they're so old no-one sees them." I mutter and close my eyes. Her hand reaches out tentatively to trace each old silvery line with the gentlest of touches and I watch as she purses her lips and draws in sharp breaths every so often. I'm transfixed as she explores my skin, still to the world.

"They really hurt you." She finally rests her forehead on my chest. "If I _ever_ get my hands on those bastards they'd wish they were dead."

I close my eyes again and just wrap my arms around her shoulders. "I wasn't just beaten." The admission feels like a weight was lifted further from my shoulders and removes her head from my chest, scooting up until her hands are on either sides of my face. I open my eyes to see her sky blue eyes watered in the edges.

"They..." She trails off and lowers her lips to mine, a soft quick kiss. "I'll make it my personal crusade to make them beg for death."

"You say the most wonderful things." I smile as our lips meet again and end up having to break the embrace for air. "We're up in..." I glance over to where the personal time keeper has fallen out of my satchel. "Five hours for third watch. We should sleep."

No more words are spoken as I extinguish my lantern with a quick ice spell and pull a blanket over us both. She turns to face away from me and I curl around her, my arm resting over the clinch of her waist, forearm up against her chest, fingers just on the swell of her left breast. I don't want to fall asleep. I just want to stay this way.

* * *

I've found out we're headed to Redcliffe. We're only two days away now. So we have a while before I'll have to go back to... I'm not going to think about it. "William." I stiffen as we're walking when he comes closer. It's just Alistair. It's not them. Don't act like someone put a rod in your spine you stupid mage. "Could I have a word?"

"No." I can't do it. The feeling of the lyrium resonance is too much still.

"Maker's breath - please! We were friends - or I thought we were! I held your hair back when you chucked up in Orzammar! I've saved your life in battle and you've saved mine - too many times to count!"

"Is there a point to this templar?" I clench my teeth together.

"You laughed at a few of my jokes too! Come on William - I know you hurt but don't bottle up." I turn on the spot and I'm almost face to face with him (but for the fact I'm a good five inches taller than him even if I'm a skinny stick of a mage).

"You're right - I do hurt. And it's your kind that did it. I can't even think straight with that fucking lyrium presence you have." The words are almost hissed out. "So if you'd like to give me some space at least I might be able to think!"

"Get past it. I'm a Warden not a templar." His voice takes on a different tone to one I'm used to and I'm almost transported back to... no. He's not going to remind me of that. I've been cooped up in my head long enough.

"You'll always be a templar." I feel everything shaking as I say it and I try to walk away when I almost connect with Shiloh - who is glaring daggers at Alistair.

"Didn't I tell you to be nice? Fucking Void Alistair - I told you what they did!" She gaze shifts to me. "But you need to play nice too. I know it's difficult but you were friends before all this crap was put back in your brain. You don't have to be best buddies getting rowdy around the campfire with ale but at least be civil. We're the last three Grey Wardens in Ferelden for Maker's sake!"

"I'm sorry." I feel very ashamed by her words. "But he started it."

"How did I start it?" The templar moaned.

"I don't care who started it - I'll finish it!" Shiloh took in a deep breath. "Alistair - move to the cart in step with Oghren, William - in step with the Orlesian. Zevran, witch - where they were. Move."

We all comply because pissed off Shiloh is a scary thing.

* * *

The next day was no better. One word lead to another until I'd just walked off from the main group. I can't stand his self-righteous attitude, how he believes he's right all the time. I know for a fact that I'm not always right - there isn't a right or wrong except in extremes. But he always believes he is right.

Selfish templar bastard. They're all the same. "William." Oh Maker's sake woman - I'm fine - just blowing of some steam.

"Aye Shiloh?"

"Don't go running off on me now." I roll my eyes. I don't have to be worried about so. I understand enough not to go back into my mind. It's a self destructive thing.

"I know." I turn around. "He just riles me up so much... I want to beat the shit out of him." I shake my head. "Then I'd be no better than those that beat me."

"It's alright. Just leave each other alone and time will help. I don't expect you two to get on like a house on fire."

"If he was the house I'd light the fire." I smirked to myself. "I used to be friends of a sort with him but I swear every word that comes out of his mouth infuriates me."

"He's not one of the templars that hurt you - think of him as a Grey Warden with templar skills." She took a deep breath but I cut her off from continuing the line of thought.

"Templars have a lyrium presence. You can smell and feel the mineral when you come into contact. Mages use lyrium and draw the potential magical energy from it, rendering it inert in their bodies but supplementing their mana, it gives us a certain amount of magic resistance too or else channeling magic through our hands and such would hurt a lot more than a slight burn. Templars also take it but because they don't have the magic to take the energies it suffuses into them over time, building hostile magic resistance and apparently aiding their abilities. Thus - they have a presence of lyrium about them." I sighed, it's rather difficult to explain. "He says he doesn't take it himself but he still has that presence... whenever he nears me all I can think about... it's them."

"I see. I'll inform him then about this 'lyrium presence' and that it makes you uncomfortable." Shiloh pinches her mouth to the side. "We should be in Redcliffe in an hour."

"I've already told him about the presence... but thanks anyway. Let's keep moving then - Redcliffe awaits." I keep backing away - I'm okay though - I just need a little air. I'm fine.

* * *

The township came into sight down a valley that sloped sharply to Lake Calenhad, the cold sky clear enough that - Maker's breath even from this distance the tower looks foreboding and dark. I can't help but think of the jagged rocks that jut from the small island in the center of the lake, the long boat journey with the ferryman, the way the very walls seem to spiral into each other. No... I'll get those thoughts from my mind. Don't need them. Nope.

"Well... it's bound to come up sooner or later." The templar stops a moment and beckons the whole group over... nope. I'm standing here thank you. "But - oh how to I say this?"

"You are a bumbling fool and slobber your food down like a possessed mabari?" Morrigan snorted. The templar shot a scowl at her.

"You were saying something important?" Shiloh put a gantlet to her temple, cutting the argument before it started.

"Oh... yeah. Well - you guys all know I'm a bastard right? So - I don't know how to put it but Arl Eamon was charged with my care before I was given to the Chantry at ten because-"

"This had better be important." I rolled my eyes and both Leliana and Shiloh shot icy glances at me. Well - it had better be. We could he halfway down that slope and nearing this Arl Eamon to ask for his troops! So the templar knows him? Big whoop-de-fucking-do-da!

"Getting back to my point." He rubbed the back of his neck. "He looked after me because. Whelp, I'm just going to have to say it. I'm the bastard of King Maric."

"What!" Shiloh snaps to squint at him. "You're a bastard _prince_?"

"Er... yeah. Now I know what you're thinking and no - I really don't want to be anywhere near the throne. I was kept out of court and told any childish fantasies about the crown were never going to happen. I'd quite prefer it to stay that way thank you very much."

"You think a Grey Warden and templar is going to be King in any country I'm in?" I snorted. The mere thought is preposterous. Not happening if I can help it. "I'd not only eat the stupid hats that mages get shoved in, I'd swim over Lake Calenhad from here and hand myself over to you bastards."

"I think - what he's trying to say is-" Shiloh clenched her jaw, glaring at both of us. "Grey Wardens can't have children - even if we did put you on the throne there'd be no point coz the Theirin line would stop at him."

"Aye, what I said." I shrugged. "So it's not important - let's get going to Redcliffe then hmm?"

"I just thought I'd tell you all. Because it might come up. I'm glad neither of you treat me any different." He sighed, a fairly caring look at Shiloh and myself. Don't you worry templar, bastard of a King or not you still infuriate me.

"You know mi amigo, the King of Antiva is of bastard blood sixteen times over. In fact - how did I not see this before! You have such a likeness to the previous King no? There is a whore in Antiva City that charged a small fortune for his likeness to the King!" Zevran laughed, clapping the templar on the back.

"I take it you mention this due to the fact you could not afford such a _treat_?" Morrigan drawled.

"You wound me so madam!" Zevran mocked. "What have I done to be so deserving of such cruelty from the dark temptress otherwise known as Morrigan enslaver of male souls!"

"Your flattery does nothing." She sniffed. "I would much prefer the company of the mabari to any attentions you would lavish on me."

"But you should be worshiped si? In Antiva they would have you bask in jewels and gold as befitting such a gorgeous woman!" He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in his hands ghosting down her bare shoulders. A fine shiver settled over her.

"Well I-" her breathing faltered.

"Zevran, I bow to you. You truly are a master." Leliana bowed at the elf and he broke apart from the witch to bow back.

"Sod it - I owe that pipe-cleaner a pint now." Oghren grumbled.

"A pint! I owe him five silver!" The templar fished about his pockets and withdrew a small handful of coin to pass to him.

"Why thank you my adoring fans. I shall be here all week." Zevran smirked.

"I hate you all." Morrigan sniffed, striding ahead down the sloping way to the town.

"You have to admit my stoic mage - that was hilarious." Shiloh curled an arm around my waist. "I owe the assassin a pint too but shh - don't tell the witch!"

"I owe him a salve for the infection he caught off Amyrah." I sighed, just stepping away slightly as we were walking downwards.

"Now that's delicious!" Shiloh laughed.

* * *

We came to a short plateau halfway down the sloping hill where a bridge sat squat over a river that went down to the lake - a man standing guard, eyes sleepy with dust and leaning onto his over-sized kite shield for tiredness.

"Outsiders! Oh thank the Maker you're here!" He approached us, hefting the shield awkwardly to his back and walking over as if his armor were too big for him and much too heavy.

"Yes... we're here to see Arl Eamon. Could you take us to him? We're Grey Wardens in need of his troops." Shiloh stood point as our commander.

"Y-you mean you haven't heard?" He blinked.

"Heard what?" The templar asked. Schtum it a moment and maybe we'll find out?

"We haven't seen the Arl in weeks! We don't know if he's still alive and every night these monsters attack the village in hordes. We desperate for help, we've sent word to Denerim for troops to help but no-one's come!" Great - so the Redcliffe forces are dead and the Arl is likely dead. So we turn tail and head somewhere I really don't want to go.

"No help at all?" Shiloh ground out. "Is there anyone defending the town at all? Anyone in charge?"

"Bann Teagan, the Arl's brother is in the Chantry. I can take you to him." He looked at us and started to walk down the slope. And Maker damned fools - we're following, Bodahn, Sandal and their cart dutifully behind us.

* * *

I don't like being in the Chantry. There's wounded people and the people of Redcliffe almost crammed into the place, cowering in fear and their pain is tangible in the air. I feel like I'll be made to set up a healing station. Good thing we still have some lyrium in Bodahn's cart. Else it'll be a long day.

"Greetings." A man in noble clothing with gingery brown hair, a braid pulled to one side of his face and a neatly shaven beard spoke. "Er... Tomas is it?"

"Indeed milord. These are... Grey Wardens. They wanted to speak to the Arl." The man who'd lead us here answered. So he has a name now. Don't have to refer to him as 'going to die because of monsters' anymore.

"Grey Wardens? I thought they'd all died at Ostagar." He shook his head. "Thank you." Tomas hastily bowed and tried to hotfoot out of the Chantry in his too big armor.

"Bann Teagan?" Shiloh asked, her voice icy. Normally she tries to be slightly diplomatic. Then again - it's pointless us being here now and bloody awkward as we're got to go. The Blight really means we can't afford to be polite to people who can't help us. So I understand.

"Indeed." He nodded his head politely. "Alistair? Is that you? By the Maker I never would have thought you'd have survived!"

"I'm sure _Loghain_ would have preferred it that way." The templar moaned. Just shut up. I wish I'd followed that Tomas lad out of the Chantry. "Oh - this is Commander Shiloh Tabris... and fellow Warden William Amell."

"Amell? I know that name from somewhere." The Bann turned his attention to me, scrutinizing my face. "Have we met before?"

"I shouldn't think so. I know my family is supposed to be nobility in the Free Marches. But then again - I've been in in the tower eighteen years, Kinloch Hold for ten and they're dead now." I shrugged. This idle chit-chat isn't getting us troops.

"I was in the Free Marches during the Rebellion. My father sent me there... yes - you look very familiar." I'm not old enough to remember the Occupation or the Rebellion.

"You might have met my father then." I step backwards and he takes the hint - thank fuck.

"So Commander." He turns back to Shiloh. "You've seen our situation I hope - the dead burning on your way here. The fear of the townspeople?"

"I have." She's talking very stiffly. Good on you. Let's get out of this Chantry. I don't want to go back to the Tower but here isn't a stroll in an evergreen meadow. Too many heartbeats too. I feel a headache coming on. Strange that - I haven't had too bad a headache ever since I got my memories back. Odd.

"Would you lend your group to help us tonight? We're in desperate need of assistance." He looks imploringly at her. Don't do it. Blight. Remember - Blight.

"These fools cower in fear - I say leave them to their own devices." Morrigan huffed. Yes - let's do that - come on. Out of the Chantry. I don't like it here. Move... please? Shiloh stiffens further at the witch's comment. Bollocks. We're going to help them now aren't we? Thanks a lot Morrigan.

"We can't just leave these people to die!" The templar glares at her. Oh yes we can - just you watch I could walk out of here very easily. Not to mention, the Veil feels off. Not torn or weak - just off. I don't like that either. Can't we go somewhere with a nice strong Veil? Orzammar, The Brecillian Forest, here - all thin Veils somewhere. I want a holiday from being in these damned places. I know - let's go rally troops from one of the other Arlings. If I remember my nobles and where they're from, from my lessons, Highever sounds nice - let's go ask the Teryn there for his troops hmm? I bet you the Veil is nice and strong up in the Coastlands this time of year.

"We still need to see the Arl." Shiloh grinds her teeth a little. "Take us to him and we'll help you."

"I can't get into the castle. If you help us we'll hopefully be able to force the monsters back so we can take the Castle and see if my brother is still alive." Exactly my point. We don't know if this Arl lives. Come on - let's go.

"Listen here shem." Shiloh's voice drops. "I'm the Commander of a total of three Grey Wardens including myself against a Blight. I need troops like my arse is on fire. Now I need a promise this instant that you'll take us to this Arl Eamon. If he's dead - because you're his brother I assume you'll be able to give us the troops we need?" Forceful. I like it. Still - Blight? No-one remember this? Standing around looking like ornaments isn't helping much. Maybe the darkspawn will see our Warden armor and robes and start running back to the deep roads. There's a thought.

"I promise if you promise to help us." The Bann answers, coolly indifferent to the anger threaded in Shiloh's voice.

"What type of monsters?" She asks. We're helping - I hear it.

"They're unlike anything I've ever seen. Like corpses brought back to life." Oh brilliant - here I thought it was strange night-dwelling darkspawn. Walking corpses - blood magic and demons at work. I'm overjoyed that this will be fun. I'm going to get demonic ichor all over these robes. Bagsie Healer!

"I thought the Veil felt odd." I comment. Morrigan nods her head in agreement.

"It seems what you have is a problem with apostates." The fucking templar says. Oh I didn't know that - thank you for saying it. "Maleficarum."

"Blood Magic?" Shiloh asks him. "Like Zathrian?"

"If they are walking corpses it would require blood magic to reanimate them." I shrug. Really need to get moving - burning daylight.

"We'll help you - in exchange for troops and nothing less." Shiloh turns back to the Bann. Fucking Void. You don't go against Commander orders. Especially when said Commander could ask you to jump and you ask how high. Dammit all.

* * *

And so - I'm healing every sod that wants or needs healing. I'm on a stool outside the Chantry (thank fuck) while Shiloh first beats down a dwarf into helping the assorted militia, the barkeeper in the tavern and an elven spy from one 'Arl Howe'. Didn't he employ Zevran for Loghain? I can't really be too bothered. There's little more help for us on what looks to be the shoddiest battlefield in history. Muddy logs jut from slippery salty mud in weak barricades, men in leathers either too small or big as well as dented plate stretch and practice in the cold mud.

It's a glorious day to view the troops we'll be gaining. Oh - and it's worse than Ostagar for genital infection rates. Not touching any of the latrines around here. I'll relieve myself against the Chantry - quite poetic that. Hmm...

"How can you stand to heal so many people? Does it not get tedious?" Ah - hello resident bitch. So wonderful to have your company. Want to learn Spirit Healing?

"Very. I hate healing with a vengeance." I sigh, beckoning yet another product of leeches and superstition over. Hemsbane is a poison you idiotic people. Do not rub your wounds with the noxious plant. "You could always help. Make the task shorter."

"I shall pass. Such skills would be useless against the darkspawn lest I plan to heal them to death." She drawls. "Why do you heal then when you despise it so?"

"I have a masochistic personality obviously." I shake my head. "In truth, I'm a classic case of bleeding heart syndrome. I don't want to be here later tonight though. I'd rather march on the Archdemon with our elves and dwarves."

"With the country in arms against each other the Archdemon will surely defeat what forces you have and my mothers rescue of you shall have been for naught." She takes in a deep breath. "I would have suggested to have toppled this Loghain that abandoned your people before even attempting the treaties you have so slaved over."

"I don't think it's Loghain we have issues over. I doubt his leaving the field killed the King or most of the Grey Wardens directly. In fact - I could bet you if he had charged most if not all of us not here would have died regardless." I shrug, shooing the townsperson away and taking a sip of lyrium. Argh. Disgusting.

"Sensible attitude. I doubt your fellows would share the sentiment." I stretch out my shoulders and motion with my hand for another patient. This is going to take forever.

"I doubt it too." I bring up yet another healing aura. I use this spell way too often for my dislike of healing. "But what can I do?"

"You could have lead this group. Done things your way." Oh - malicious that.

"The seeds of distrust and mutiny are easily sown Morrigan. Perhaps I prefer not to lead, I can't say we'd have fared better in the deep roads and we certainly would have had problems with the Dalish should I have been leader. I'd also have kicked that fucking templar out or at least made him aware that he's not wanted anywhere in my general vicinity."

"All the more reason you should be the-" I cut her off.

"Piss off Morrigan. I've had enough talking to last me a while. I'd rather just get on with this fucking healing and wait for nightfall and these inevitable walking corpses to ravage the town." She storms away in a huff, her leather boots catching on the ragwork leathers of her skirt. Good. Go. I don't like you and I'm sure no-one else does.

* * *

Not only are we waiting for the sun to slip lazily down the horizon - we're waiting at the top of the hill - on the front lines waiting for the sun to slip lazily down the horizon. Were the Veil feels at it's most off. The green mist - that tastes like blood and Fade-air rolls down the sloping hill and the first of the corpses is ambling down in the mist.

It looks like a servant from the grubby apron and meat cleaver in hand. Joy - innocents killed then made into monsters. I can see why the townspeople are finding it difficult to kill these walking corpses. "Remember everyone - destroy the brain or remove the head. It's the only reason the demons attached themselves. Without it - they'll escape back into the Fade." And of course, try to latch onto either myself or Morrigan I should add. But it's noted that walking corpses are lesser demons like Hunger and Rage. Petty things that I'm not distracted by.

Who's brilliant idea was it - as an apostate to ravage a town that could at least serve as darkspawn fodder? Did they think possessing these people would make for a nice little army? Well we're obviously here too early for that to have worked. Oops.

Leliana sent an arrow clean through it's head and I braced myself for the whisper. _Don't you wish to annihilate the templars for what they did to you? I could give you even more power than you imagined._ Fuck... off.

Battle broke into a frenzy as our two berserkers screamed into the encroaching corpses. The templar alongside whatever proper soldiers the Arl has left as well as the dwarf Shiloh beat up. Zevran flitted like the wind after the berserkers, his daggers poised as he slipped into the shadows and pounced, blades twirling sharp. Ward barked after his mistress, ripping rigor mortis touched limbs with a ferocious skill.

I slipped my katana from the hip sheath and allowed it to react to my magic before grasping hold of as much static as possible and focusing it on the dead brains of our foes. The warriors standing looked almost shocked that so many of them went down. Oh yes - I haven't forgotten, most people don't see the destructive powers of magic. At most a solider where mages are used will see healing. Well lets see how these corpses like this?

Flames came from the sky and I turned to see Morrigan mimicking my Firestorm, adding potency to the spellwork and helping control the unruly fire to cast only at enemy forces. A torrent of arrows screamed though the darkness on fire through the storm and landed into the approaching reinforcements. Leliana and a group of the militia archers. The melee fighters were running up the hill full pell mell and cleaving swathes of blood and a new wave of demons approached.

Morrigan whimpered slightly before ice rose up and impaled whatever corpses were slipping past the melee. _You could be a free mage without the duty of darkspawn slaying. _Fuck off!

_Get back at those that wronged you! _Fuck off! I shook the very foundations of the earth, calling through the roar of fire and the clash of metal for the melee fighters to retreat. This is going to be a big spell.

Just as the two berserkers had actually responded and Zevran lightfooted himself to our position, blades gore slick and face smattered in ichor did I fully release the magic - the earth tearing and swallowing the walking corpses whole, crushing the demons out of them.

"Wardens!" My concentration broke at the words. Tomas? How the fuck did he get up here from the lake defenses? They're the back-up squads. "The corpses are coming out of the lake - hurry!"

"Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana - stay here and keep the threat up. Everyone else - move."

We needn't be told twice, myself, Ward, Zevran and Oghren following Shiloh down the slope to the lake fortifications - if they could indeed be called that. I slipped a hand into my satchel as we ran, drawing a lyrium potion out. I don't need to 'fill up' as often as before, having both mine and Meddolwen's magical strength and willpower on my side. Still have to restore mana every so often though. Just at greater intervals.

We jogged into the barricades to find half the militia already dead and rising in the form of corpses, the bloated barkeeper, the elven spy, the mayor of Redcliffe. They're on the wrong side now.

The militia were losing though. I did what needed be done - I shook the earth again. "All of you still able - move the fuck out of the fortifications!" The scant few militia left able to get out - got out before the ground attacked the rest of the threat and dying left. Call me callous - but they were going to turn on us too - bolstering their numbers and significantly dropping ours.

Tomas screamed and the sodden corpse was biting his neck, snapping it with a wet gurgle of blood. Lovely. Shiloh moved forward, Holly bisecting the two men for the corpse was obviously male easily.

Battle recommenced in greater haste, the mindless corpses attacking with almost no advantage but number from the lake. Fire could not burn them properly - but ice froze them solid as stone. Elementalism and Galvanism worked in sickly harmony, disabling then conducting through the iced salt water the bulk of the forces. Yeah - mages do create a sizable chunk of damage in battle. Three cheers for the mages. Or just me... three cheers for me.

The corpse came up close, having slipped the attention of the resident assassin and I invigorated my katana with flame, skewering the wet corpse with a cauterizing hiss before powering static to burn out the nerve circuitry of it's brain. Not such a formidable foe. C'est la vie!

And so the night continued. A blur of being called backward and forward from front lines and lake, magic, demon whispers and the buzz of lyrium until dawn was breaking and the corpses were thinned significantly. How am I still awake?

Oh look - there's Bann Teagan still in his noble clothing coming out of the Chantry to see us clean up. Oh - and the Revered Mother. Can't waste the skills of a Chantry maiden against these despicable creatures - oh no. I saw the bow on her back - arrows fired from the safety of the Chantry roof might have been helpful.

I'm also back on healing while the service for the dead takes place.

Everyone needs healing and I did a rudimentary 'group heal' that encapsulated the area a good twenty-five feet circle around me. Powerful or what mundanes? Yeah - I'm a mage - or you could just call me awesome. That was fairly prideful of me... not good.

The line for healing was much shorter than I expected. It seemed the corpses don't look to injure - kill quickly and then add that dead person to their numbers. Any injuries that needed healing were careless fire from arrows, nicked arms and torsos from swords and the occasional frazzled, burnt, numbed or petrified limb. What can I say - it was dark. Morrigan most probably caused a lot of the burnt and iced numb limbs. The frazzled and petrified ones are mine. Good thing Spirit Healing can actually reverse turning someone partly into stone.

"It's sad how so many died." Leliana murmured as I healed up a nick on her neck - greatsword - thankfully not to close to her or she'd have easily been decapitated.

"Aye - but we defeated tonight's horde. We go after the mage who started this mess next." I sighed. I hate the idea of hunting down this stupid mage. It's people like he or she who give us a bad name. How can the outside world accept magic as a piece of normalcy and at least be civil to us when we tear towns apart with corpses that undoubtedly were their loved ones - or even acquaintances?

Stupid. Foolish. That's what they are. Power addled by a demon. I haven't anything specifically against blood magic. Don't assume I do. It's magic like any other and I'm sure it has uses. But all power seems corrupted now. I can't stand it. "Hopefully bloodshed can be avoided."

"The templars will slaughter the mage if we don't - and we can offer a merciful death." I pursed my lips as Shiloh called me over. I hunched and then shook out my shoulders before walking carefully over the blood and mud that slicked the floor. "Lovely day. I'm tired."

"You're irritable today." Shiloh's eyebrows arched.

"Too much lyrium and not enough sleep." I yawned for effect - because I'm fucking tired. Where's Bodahn? I have health potions in there that will take the edge of the clawing Warden hunger and tiredness I feel. "Sorry lass - I really can't stand all this though. The troops here are almost gone, the Veil is off, demons attacking my mind every spare moment. I'm knackered."

"Come here then you stupid mage." Shiloh bit the inside of her cheek as she opened her bloodied arms at me. Ah - we're both covered in blood. I can handle a bloodied hug. I adore the feeling of her though. Even blood covered. "I'll race you to the lake - I really need to get this shit off me."

"My thoughts exactly milady - if you would escort me to the lake? I'll even warm the water off us to dry." I tugged the back of my plait - because we knew this was going to be a horrible bloody battle. And bloody tangles aren't nice to deal with. I shook the hair loose a little - already dried a bit - but not tangled. Thank the Maker for small favors.

"Formal much?" Shiloh snorted before breaking into a run and I chased after her until we were hip deep in water, sticky blood scrubbed with hands off of clothes. I splashed her. To be honest she splashed me first. She still squealed like I'd started it. When finally clean we emerged dripping from the lake and I grabbed hold of Shiloh's hand, closing my eyes as I focused on vibrating the water molecules into heating and steaming gently off us.

I opened them to have Shiloh's lips mere inches away from mine before I lowered into the embrace, my hand leaving hers to cradle the base of her head upwards and the other threaded into her hair, the thumb running the length of her pointed ear. She shuddered lightly, a gasp into my mouth. I think she _may_ like that.

"Grey Wardens?" Bann fucking Teagan - you could have helped in that battle - go away. "Could I have a word?" Shiloh was the one to break the embrace first. I'm not usually one for such public displays of affection but I don't like him. I don't like anything about this situation. At least I've been able to get cleaned and slightly refreshed.

"What is it?" Shiloh huffed.

"I need to speak with you - if you could follow me?"

"Fine - this better be about troops." Shiloh answered before falling in step behind him, myself trailing after and our assorted companions noticing and falling in step as we passed.

* * *

"This really better be about our troops." Shiloh ground out as we came to the base of the windmill, were we'd headed the frontal assault on the reanimated walking dead. "Because if it's not-" Her fists balled at her sides.

"The view of the burnings is quite dramatic from this point." The fuck Bann Teagan? If this is a ploy to get us here continually you can forget about it. Not happening again. I have barely any lyrium left from my own and Morrigan's consumption.

"Teagan!" I whipped my head to see a harried looking woman in a fine albiet tight dress half stumbling down the slope of the hill heading toward us. And that accent - is Orlesian. Shiloh is going to have a field day. "Oh thank the Maker you are alright Teagan." I hate the way she says the Bann's name. It's grating 'Teee-gaaan' the vowels elongated into screeches.

"Isolde? How did you get out of the Castle? Does my brother yet live?" Teagan half ran to her, only stopping short a few feet away. "Isolde - is Eamon alive?"

"He yet lives. But I need you to follow me into the Castle. Connor - I fear he is going mad Teagan." Isolde - because we now know her name looked down-trodden at the ground. "Please Teagan."

"Who are you to be making demands Orlesian? We've just fought a horde of undead monsters!" Shiloh's fists are shaking. Calm it love... I put a hand on her shoulder and moved it closer to her neck to squeeze at the chain there with my Arcane Warrior strength. She visibly reeled in and shot a look behind at me with a short nod.

"Who are you to speak to me like that!" Isolde glared at Shiloh. Dangerous words.

"Lady Isolde?" The templar... well you gave this woman maybe a few more seconds of life. I'm sure she'll thank you after she finishes that nonchalant 'pissed off' look at you.

"Alistair? Oh all the-"

"Isolde. These are the Grey Wardens that saved Redcliffe last night." Yeah Isolde - we saved this muddy hole of a town. Teagan speaks truly even if he was safe in the fucking Chantry all night. Respect please?

"I apologize for my behavior." She nodded tersely. "But I need you to follow me Teagan! I fear so greatly what-"

"The threat is over shem. We were in the middle of a conversation." Shiloh interjects. I quite agree. You were rude so we can be just as rude back. You're the ones that owe us here. I don't even know who you are other that 'Isolde' with a 'Lady' in front of that.

"Isolde, I will come with you - but first allow me to speak with the Grey Wardens." Teagan dismisses her. Thank whatever beings intervened there. I almost thought we weren't getting our troops.

"So who was that shem?" Shiloh half barks at him.

"The wife of Arl Eamon. Connor being his son." Oh joyous of joys. I swear everyone in Thedas is a grade-A help to us Grey Wardens when it comes to troop collecting. She's hysterical and the son is ill? Going mad? Either way - I doubt this Arl Eamon will have the time or inclination to speak with us despite the fact we saved this muddy stick town. His muddy stick town. "Here... this is my signet ring. It opens a secret passage under the lake through the windmill." He pulls a chunky signet from his right ring finger and hands it to Shiloh. "I must go to Isolde and I am sure there will be more of those horrors within the castle. If you have need, save my brother. The rest of us are expendable."

"You mean we could have gotten into the castle at any point?" Shiloh really tensed up. Teagan - you're not gaining the favors of the Commander of the Grey Wardens.

"The town needed to be saved." He huffed before he broke into a run after Isolde. Good - you were mabari food soon enough.

"Right - So I assume this is going to be a secret passage of the wet and horribly cramped variety." Shiloh turns her attention to us. "William, Leliana and Morrigan with me. You can all fight in close enough quarters or deal a lot of damage if there _are_ more of these undead in the passage. Alistair, Oghren, Ward and Zevran - try to follow the Bann and _her_ into the castle."

* * *

The passage - as we thought, was dank as sin. Dark like the deep roads with a wetness from the lake, the smell of mildew and dirt you just can't buy anywhere. If someone said 'creepy tunnel under a castle' was in their tourist must-haves in Ferelden I'd be quite the tour-guide. I crack myself up.

"At arms!" Shiloh ordered... yeah - we all heard the unmistakable guttural moaning of corpses too. I can feel magic... and not from myself or the witch. Leliana drew her dual daggers out - because who would seriously attempt to use a bow and arrow in these conditions? And Morrigan and I our staves. Magic can be used in so many ways.

Shiloh acted as battering ram with Holly out front as lightning and ice whizzed past her and the Chantry sister flitted around her in the cramped tunnel to tear down the corpses that tried to slip past. A hand caught my attention as it darted in and out of a cell to our left... a hand with a stigmata, still bloody. A stigmata hand that produces flames. If it's...

I neared the cell, a ball of flames in my hand to light up and would you have guessed it - of all the dank horrible tunnels for us to find my betraying blood mage friend in - it would be this one. "Jowan?" Yeah - I asked. Because how many people are as skinny as mages, with greasy black hair and a hand that looks more butchered than one of the things Ward captured?

"William?" He edged toward the bars, unsure of himself, his eyes wide.

"You know him?" Shiloh was by my side looking into the cell... he's only in his smallclothes and shivering. So nice image for her. Nice image for me too. Argh.

"I didn't do anything!" He suddenly declared. Oh - you can put two and two together too? Known blood mage and there's blood magic creations about?

"What are you doing here? I'd have thought you were going to be halfway to Tevinter while I was staring listlessly stacking boxes Tranquil." Oh - I have a deep raspy voice when angry. It makes him flinch. I don't care. I melt the lock on the cell and enter, grabbing him with my flame free hand just under the neck so not to strangle him but merely pin him against the filthy stone wall. "Oh don't think I've forgotten Jowan Levyn. I'm still pissed about that."

"William what are you doing?" Leliana breathed behind me.

"Finding out why one of my only friends in Kinloch Hold decided to not only use me, but never tell me that the whole losing my memory the second time was a lie." I snarled at him. "Because they didn't think to get through to me. They took the easy option and just wiped my mind clean."

"William - calm down." Shiloh neared and I quickly glanced over, her mouth was open in shock.

"If I wasn't conscripted into the Grey Wardens they were going to make me Tranquil Jowan. As I'm sure you're aware I'd have rather died."

"I'm sorry!" He squeaked. Not good enough. I increased the pressure on his throat. "Please - I'm so sorry!"

"Tell me why." I clenched my teeth, lessening my hold but keeping the traitor pinned to the wall.

"I was jealous! You always found magic so easy!" He near rasped for breath. "I... I'm so sorry!"

"Why did you kill all these people - make them corpses?" Still angry. You can apologize all you like but it doesn't change the past.

"I didn't do anything like that!" Jowan squealed. "I was was caught running across the Bannorn."

"This isn't the Bannorn." I deadpanned.

"I was brought in front of the Regent... and he said he'd have a use for me. To get rid of a political enemy would be for the good of Ferelden!" I furrowed my brow. Start making sense now.

"Loghain... he told me that if I poisoned Arl Eamon then my crimes would be wiped clean off the slate and I'd be able to escape. I'm so tired of running William. I just want to repent." I backed off him and instead drew my katana, holding it sideways to rest under his neck but far enough away that it wouldn't actually cut him. The sword is sharp without needing a whetstone taken to it. Magically sharp.

"How did you know it was Loghain? I'm not going on hearsay on something like this." He shook uncontrollably.

"William - you're scaring him. He won't talk if you keep on threatening his life." Leliana tried to soothe. Oh shut up please?

"He looked just like the portraits we had in the History lessons."

"Funny that - I met him in Ostagar when I set up a fucking healing tent - he commended me for getting of my arse and doing something. I can tell you now that Loghain doesn't look a thing like a cross between a rabid mabari and a dragon." I took a deep breath in. "So one more question. How would a blood mage end up close enough to the Arl to poison him?"

"His son is a mage!" He squeaked. "Lady Isolde wanted someone from outside the Circle to teach him - just enough so he could hide from the templars!"

"A foolish woman." Morrigan drawled. "Hiring a blood mage to teach a young child. Was it perhaps the child which brought down such destruction on this town?" That's a good point.

"Well - answer her." I glared.

"I don't know - he can barely make a glass of water cold let alone do this sort of thing." He hung his head. "So what are you going to do?"

"You know what Jowan - I never want to see you again. The day you darken a door anywhere near me will be your last." I took a deep breath of the foetid air and sheathed the katana. "Get out of here. Before I change my mind."

"You're - you're letting me go?" He looked up, his face resignation to death already.

I opened my satchel and pulled out the spare tunic I kept in there - just in case someone broke their armor enough that it was necessary to use it. "Put this on - and go. Maybe save Lily from Aeonar - you said you loved her." He took the proffered tunic and smiled weakly at me.

"You're a better friend than I ever deserved." Yeah - I know. Go. He slunk past our group and hurried out the way we'd come.

"Are you alright?" Shiloh neared me where I'd just stood still while things happened. "What's a Tranquil?"

"A mage that gets branded with an enchanted iron on the forehead while in the Fade. It's like dying in the Fade... you lose your magic and every emotion. A body that functions but nothing else." I hissed between my teeth. "I'd rather be dead than Tranquil."

"The Tranquil are unnerving - I have seen a few in a Chantry when they are brought to-" I cut the Chantry Sister off.

"When they're brought into slave potions and enchantments? Aye - we all know what they're used for." I closed my eyes and got tackled into the side of the wall. Ow. Shiloh - I don't need a hug - I want to kill shit.

"You're not though." She breathed.

"Must we have these constant displays of affection. Tis rather pointless." Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"But they're so cute!" Leliana gushed. I'm not cute. Weird woman.

"Let's keep on through these tunnels lasses... Teagan will be needing us if this Arl's son is the reason the corpses were rising." I slipped away from Shiloh.

"You believe the man who nearly had you made Tranquil?" Leliana stared at me. I shrugged.

"He was my best friend. I might be rather stupid but I still trust the bastard. He didn't have much left to lose." It's so fucking true. Damn.


	24. (Musicalrain) The Demons

Author Note: So this chapter is named 'The Demons' because there's... a lot of demons in this one. Both literally and figuratively. And all of you youtube the song Demons by Imagine Dragons if you don't know it. You'll find it's appropriate to this pairing, I think. ;)

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

I'm breathing heavily to rid myself of the rage that those damned skeletons dredged up in me when I notice William walking towards one of the cells lining the hall with a grim expression and flames in his hand.

"Jowan?" He asks into one of the cells with a harsh voice, and I wander up towards him as I remove my helm from atop my head.

I stop beside him to see a mostly naked, skinny, bruised, and grime-covered shem walk on shaky legs towards the bars of his cell. "William?" Huh?

I turn towards William partially as I study the shem, "You know him?"

The shem looks back and forth between us nervously before shouting, "I didn't do anything!" How come people always say that when they've so totally done something? You're not in a cell for nothing, bud.

I see a muscle jump in William's jaw before he speaks, "What are you doing here? I'd have thought you were going to be halfway to Tevinter while I was staring listlessly stacking boxes Tranquil." Oh. He has a sexy angry voice. Inappropriate thought at an inappropriate time! I watch as William directs his flame to melt the lock on the cell door, just before he – wow. He's kinda pissed at this shem, isn't he? One of my hands travels to my belt knife as a precaution as William grabs the other shem with one hand and pushes him harshly against the cell's wall. "Oh don't think I've forgotten Jowan Levyn. I'm still pissed about that." And... what the sod all is a Tranquil? He... William's _really _pissed over whatever the Void that is.

"William what are you doing?" The Orlesian speaks from beside me. I'll tell ya what he's doing – being all sexy while he's pissed at a sodding shem. But... he may be a little too pissed, huh?

"Finding out why one of my only friends in Kinloch Hold decided to not only use me, but never tell me that the whole losing my memory the second time was a lie. Because they didn't think to get through to me. They took the easy option and just wiped my mind clean." Oh yeah. He's very pissed. Beyond sexy pissed, and now at holy shit he's pissed. Sodding fuck he's angry – did his flame just get a little brighter?

I walk towards him, and I may be gaping a little. "William – calm down," I suggest somewhat gently.

"If I wasn't conscripted into the Grey Wardens they were going to make me Tranquil Jowan. As I'm sure you're aware I'd have rather died." Shit – what now?

"I'm sorry!" The shem pleads in a high-pitched voice. William's flame gets a tiny bit brighter and he shuffles closer to the other man as I see his hand tighten. Very, very pissed. "Please - I'm so sorry!"

I see William's arm lax a little. "Tell me why," he demands. He's as angry as I get sometimes. Maybe more. I'm not sure.

The shem gasps for breath, "I was jealous! You always found magic so easy! I... I'm so sorry!"

"Why did you kill all these people - make them corpses?"

The shem is practically shaking through his bones, "I didn't do anything like that! I was caught running across the Bannorn."

"This isn't the Bannorn," William clarifies. He's still pissed, and my hand is still so very much on my belt knife. Sodding shems. The lot of them are liars, aren't they? Well... except for a select few.

"I was brought in front of the Regent... and he said he'd have a use for me. To get rid of a political enemy would be for the good of Ferelden!" He pauses, "Loghain... he told me that if I poisoned Arl Eamon then my crimes would be wiped clean off the slate and I'd be able to escape. I'm so tired of running William. I just want to repent." Oh... well isn't that peachy? The noble shems just want to kill everyone now, don't they?

William releases the shem suddenly and draws his blade and holds it to the shem's neck. Really, really sodding angry. "How did you know it was Loghain? I'm not going on hearsay on something like this." Oh. Well that shem is practically vibrating in fear now.

The Orlesian interjects with a patient, soft voice, "William - you're scaring him. He won't talk if you keep on threatening his life." Nope – I'd say he's doing okay on getting information out of him. So long as he doesn't kill him before we find out all we can. And William doesn't get so angry that he catches the lot of us on fire, because I'm pretty sure his flame just got brighter again.

The shem hurriedly speaks again, "He looked just like the portraits we had in the History lessons."

"Funny that - I met him in Ostagar when I set up a fucking healing tent - he commended me for getting of my arse and doing something. I can tell you now that Loghain doesn't look a thing like a cross between a rabid mabari and a dragon." William takes a breath – hopefully to calm him. Maybe. "So one more question. How would a blood mage end up close enough to the Arl to poison him?"

The shem has started trembling in earnest again. "His son is a mage! Lady Isolde wanted someone from outside the Circle to teach him - just enough so he could hide from the templars!" Oh – well that's interesting.

The witch sniffles from outside the cell and says with disdain, "A foolish woman. Hiring a blood mage to teach a young child. Was it perhaps the child which brought down such destruction on this town?" Shit. That would be... shit.

William shuffles forward once more. He's really sodding close to the shem. "Well – answer her." Yes – do that.

"I don't know - he can barely make a glass of water cold let alone do this sort of thing." His head slopes downwards despite the blade near his throat, "So what are you going to do?" Yep – all William's decision here. I think he's said everything he can.

"You know what Jowan - I never want to see you again. The day you darken a door anywhere near me will be your last." Huh? Letting him go? I didn't expect that... he's _really _sodding angry. But he was his friend, right? William straightens and breathes heavily as he sheathes his blade and cautions one last time, "Get out of here. Before I change my mind."

The shem looks up with clear fear and confusion on his face – also a bit of desperation. Seems he was ready to die. "You're – you're letting me go?"

William quickly goes to his ever-present satchel on his hip, and removes a tunic and holds it out to the shem. "Put this on - and go. Maybe save Lily from Aeonar - you said you loved her." Don't know who that is or what that is. Apparently has something to do with what ever story is behind this shem.

The shem smiles ever so slightly at William, "You're a better friend than I ever deserved." He gathered the tunic in his hands and pressed it against his chest as he dashed past us all and towards the way we came.

Whew. Glad that shem's gone. How come William doesn't look too pleased? He's really still. Is it because of whatever the flames a Tranquil is? Is he thinking on that? I step closer to him to peer up into his sullen face, "Are you alright?" I pause slightly, "What's a Tranquil?"

His face hardens. Apparently not the right thing to ask. "A mage that gets branded with an enchanted iron on the forehead while in the Fade. It's like dying in the Fade... you lose your magic and every emotion. A body that functions but nothing else." Holy fuck. "I'd rather be dead than Tranquil." Holy fuck again. People can... no – templars can do that? They can... holy fuck. I-I don't know what to say to that. I'm trying to imagine – no. No, I'm not sodding thinking that. Not William. No.

"The Tranquil are unnerving - I have seen a few in a Chantry when they are brought to-"

William interrupts the Orlesian with a biting voice, "When they're brought into slave potions and enchantments? Aye - we all know what they're used for." Sodding flames. He closes his eyes and looks just so damned... sad and defeated. Shit – can't contain myself. We're in need of hugs!

I bound towards him and harshly gather him to my armored body, and in the process push him against the narrow cell's wall. Oops. But physical contact would do us some good here. I just thought about him – no I'm not.

"You're not though," I say against his chest. He's not. Never.

The witch sodding ruins the hug. "Must we have these constant displays of affection. Tis rather pointless." Bitch.

I hear the Orlesian clasp her hands together, "But they're so cute!" We're... no we're not! She keeps saying that.

William pulls back (I still have the urge to hug!) and says, "Let's keep on through these tunnels lasses... Teagan will be needing us if this Arl's son is the reason the corpses were rising."

"You believe the man who nearly had you made Tranquil?" The Orlesian looks up at William. Why the fuck not? What'd he have to gain by lying? A sword in the throat?

"He was my best friend. I might be rather stupid but I still trust the bastard. He didn't have much left to lose." Holy shit that's fucked up. I could never imagine Shianni or – or any other of my friends doing something like that to me.

* * *

We clear out a few more lots of those reanimated corpses here and there, elven and human, as we go along through the castle in our search for a way to get to the courtyard either to meet up with that noble shem or our fellows. Some of the corpses are wearing little other than their clothes, let alone armor, and most are unarmed. They're all easy to cut down or burn up without too much trouble. But all of them... were people. I've gathered that what ever mage is in charge of all this crap, had to have somehow killed a few people at first and then turned them into these... _things _with their fowl magic. Then those things killed more people, and created even more walking dead things. That's really sodding fucked up. If the shem child really is the cause of all this, then I'll have to wonder how the Void does a child think all this up let alone really do this. Wouldn't they be frightened? I have no idea, but that's our only working theory at the moment. Unless that other shem mage was really responsible, but William seemed to think he was telling the truth – and I trust William.

While I'm musing on the pile of shit we've walked into in this village, we manage to find a way into the courtyard and out of the servant's quarters – or at least the Orlesian spies a way.

We walk outside only to hear the distinctive grunts and groans of yet more walking corpses... and whatever the Blight that fucker is! It's a sodding tall shem's corpse donned in heavy armor and holding a sword menacingly in one decay ridden arm. It was probably once a knight. But what's even _more _fucked up are its creepy glowing purplish-red eyes and the fact that it flaming _laughs _when it sees us.

"Revenant!" William shouts. "A powerful demon summoned into a corpse!"

Powerful demon – meet Holly. I pull Holly free with a yell of my budding anger before I shout to the others, "Leliana and Morrigan – take care of the little ones! William back me up against the big sodder!"

My hands tighten on Holly as I focus on the knowledge that this demon has dared to threaten and sodding taunt our lot. It won't get long to gloat, not if I can help it. I break off in a full charge at the thing, heedless of the other undead grasping feebly at my armor, and meet its sword with my own and a harsh _scrape _of metal on metal.

It laughs again, "Ha, ha, ha – maggots!" The arm not holding the sword reaches towards me and pulses with a bluish-black magic that instantly pulls at me – flaming pulls me towards it. With each tug of its horrid magic, the raging pulse hums that much stronger through my veins and seeps like a red-tinged spiderweb through my vision. The demonic creation bursts into flame and howls – turning its magic to an ice spell to extinguish the flames licking at its rotting form. I take the opportunity afforded to me to swing Holly with an angled sweep into its lesser protected elbow of its sword arm and cut it deep – black ichor spraying as I withdraw my greatsword.

It snarls and brings its bluish-black magic swathed hand towards me again, and as I'm closer due to my attack, it manages to pull me off my feet. Its long bony fingers claw at my chest plate and hold me still as it meets its glowing gaze with my own through my helm. I struggle with Holly one-handed and snarl as I manage to cut into the armpit of the arm holding me.

"Pathetic fool," it laughs as it's unaffected by my attack. "Die and allow me your vessel! I can offer your soul what it..." Its voice takes on a feminine note, "_desires_."

I scream and drop Holly to the beaten ground as my head starts to pulse with pain that penetrates through my rage and anger. Images flash before my mind's eye in quick succession – each loving image punctuated by a searing pain behind my eyes. Mamae and Adda hugging me lovingly, Shianni laughing, Soris smiling with a whetstone in hand, William kissing the back of my hand...

Suddenly I'm on my back looking through the slit of my helmet only to see both William and... Alistair's swords piercing through the sternum of the demon's borrowed body. Holy shit. Where'd they come from?

I struggle to stand as the revenant screams and crumbles in a heap – all the others are cutting down the last of the corpses. Well... that's one way to be taken out of a fight.

William sheathes his blade and bends to pick up Holly from where I dropped her. He seems surprised for a moment, probably due to her weight, and walks over with both hands holding her. I take her with a nod and a weak smile before reaching up and kissing his chin, as the pain and anger fizzles from my head and his familiar thrum comforts me.

Alistair holsters his shield and sword before turning to face us, standing closer to me than William (they're still having a pissing contest), and I turn to him, "Thanks for the save." I nod towards the now open gate, "How did you all get in?"

"Leliana found the lever for the gates," he answers.

I see William tense slightly beside me before he tersely addresses our fellow Warden, "Thank you... for the assistance."

I see surprise flash across Alistair's face before he nods, "You're welcome." Unusual, considering they've not had a decent conversation since the mess in the ruins. But I can't really think on that, as we still have the matter of where the Void the nobles are and this child that everyone keeps bringing up.

* * *

As soon as we regroup, we walk into the castle's main chamber, to see... is that the shem Teagan? What the sod all is he doing? He's jumping around, and... did he just twirl? There's a shem child clapping at the... weirdness beside the Orlesian Isolde. The shem noblewoman has her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes downcast. What the fuck is going on here?

"So these are our visitors," the child says as he notices our approach. My hand tentatively grasps Holly. Something is seriously wrong with that boy's voice.

"Demon," William bends slightly to whisper to me. Sodding Void.

"The ones you told me about, Mother," the boy continues.

The Orlesian noble raises her head shakily to her son and stutters, "Y-yes."

"And they're the ones that defeated my soldiers to reclaim my village." Shit – the boy is responsible.

"Y-yes," she stutters again.

"What are they Mother? I can't quite tell."

"They are people, Connor, just like you and me. Humans, elves, and a-a dwarf."

A smile spreads over the demon-child's face. "Elves... Like the servants whose ears I had cut off to feed to the hounds." The sick son of a bitch! My hand tightens on Holly. Sorta glad I still have my helm on – I'm not sure how the demon-child would react to seeing my snarl, and I actually don't want to start swinging and ask questions later right now. Need to know what the fuck is happening.

"Connor!" Isolde gasps and turns towards her son. "I beg you – please do not hurt anyone," her Orlesian accent getting thicker with her obvious distress.

The child rubs at his brow, and looks up at his mother with wide, frightened eyes. "M-mother?" Hey – his voice returns to that of a normal child's and he starts shivering. "W-what's happening? Where am I?"

Isolde drops to her knees clutching her son's tunic, "Oh thank the Maker!" She breathes in relief, "Connor? Connor – can you hear me?"

The boy clutches his face and shakes it as a tremor settles over his small form. "Get away from me fool woman!" Shit on a mabari. I go to take a step forward, but William puts a hand on my arm to stop me. What? Why? The rattling of my armor draws the attention of the noblewoman and she looks towards us.

"Grey Wardens – please do not hurt my son! He's not responsible for what he does!" Somehow I don't think demons spontaneously inhabit shem children's bodies. I think he had to do _something_.

"That might not be true," I reply a little steely. Sodding demons cutting off the fucking ears of elves.

The demon-child laughs as Isolde is quick to ramble a reply, "Connor doesn't mean to do this! It was the mage that poisoned my husband! He summoned the demon! Connor was just trying to help his father!"

The witch... actually takes a step forward on the other side of me, "And make a deal with a demon to do so?" she sneers. "Foolish child," she finishes with a curl of her nose.

The demon-child's body goes rigid with his hands clenched at his sides, "It was a fair deal!"

Well this is getting out of hand. I draw Holly an inch out of my scabbard in preparation of any attack the demon-child sends our way (he's responsible for those skeletons after all, right?), but William wraps both hands around my arm and shakes his head in disagreement with my actions. "Lass-"

He's cut off by the demon-child, "Let's try to keep this civil." The child actually snarls and I see a brief purple light flash in his eyes, "Why are you here?"

I keep my hand rigid on Holly, William wrapped on the other to keep me from doing something hasty (my anger doesn't get in the way _that _much, does it?) and answer the child as I pull myself straight, "We're here to stop you."

"Stop me, why?" He looks towards the sodding lying noblewoman. "We're having fun aren't we?"

"I... I don't think..." She answers as she wraps her arms back around her middle.

"Of course you don't," the shem child huffs. "You've done nothing but get in the way of my fun. It's getting dull." He looks at us with a wickedly evil smile plastered on his face, "I crave excitement! You've spoiled my fun with the village, but now you'll entertain me!" He laughs loudly. If that wasn't a segue to an attack, I don't know what is. I pull Holly out a little further.

The boy runs down a hall just as the shem Teagan and the other knights scattered about the room rise to their feet and begin to remove their sheathed weapons. William releases my arm to shout, "Don't kill them! Once their connection is severed with the demon they'll regain themselves!"

"Ward – protect the ranged attackers! Everyone else just knock the shems unconscious!" I shout in order as I pull Holly completely free from her scabbard and turn her so her blade is vertical in preparation of hitting the knights with the flat of her blade. I notice Isolde curled in a shivering ball by the fireplace and yell to the Orlesian to protect her fellow (although I _don't _like her, but it wouldn't be right to let the flaming woman get hurt), "Leliana – protect Isolde!"

I search for the witch through the small slits in my helm, I find her and order, "Try one of your sleep spells!"

Just as my attention was drawn elsewhere, I feel a blade scrape against the gauntlet of my main hand, and see the shem Bann standing before me. I adjust my grip to bring Holly solely in my off hand as I tuck my main arm in, and lunge forward to shoulder Teagan hard in his own shoulder throwing him off balance. I swing Holly around with my off hand, heedless of Teagan's shield, and bring her round to hit him with enough force, not to kill him, but bring him to a knee – which he does. He tries feebly to bring his shield up, but I'm quicker in bringing my hands together to strike downwards with Holly's pommel atop his head. He slumps backwards with a dazed expression on his face before he looses consciousness.

I look up to see half the men asleep in odd positions, some sprawled amongst dust from small stone fists, and the others being brought down by pommel strikes or hitting their heads on the stone floor from being whacked in the knees with the flat of Oghren's axe. The half dozen or so men don't last long on their feet.

I look at the shem Bann at my feet and shout out, "Let's wake him up!"

* * *

William's able to rouse the shem with a light jolt of lightning, and he wakes with a gasp and sputtering for breath. Isolde ambles towards us as she clutches to the Orlesian before practically collapsing on Teagan as he stands. "Teagan!" She sniffles. "Oh Teagan, are you alright?"

He looks briefly at our lot before turning his attention to the near hysterical noblewoman. "I am... better now. I-I think. My mind is my own again."

The idiot noblewoman releases him before bowing her head. She should have just told us what was wrong in the first place, so we wouldn't have been going in blind. She almost caused more deaths! "Blessed Andraste! I would never have forgiven myself had you died," and not us? "Not after I brought you here. What a fool I am!" You can _definitely _say that again. I hate shem nobles.

She looks towards me her hands clasped together and tears in her eyes, "Please – Connor's not responsible for this! There must be a way to save him!" He's still dangerous regardless. Hence why I've put Oghren on duty to guard the entrance to the hall the boy dashed down due to his magic resistance. Demons have magic and the boy's a mage – I know this. Magic resistance would be handy. Alistair has some magic resistance too, doesn't he?

"There is," Morrigan sniffles. "However if your boy is weak enough to accept the deal of a demon – it would be best to put him down, least he fall prey to another later in life." Did she just sound sympathetic _and_bitchy at the same time? What the Void is up with the witch? Has she been visited by her monthly friend?

"No! Please – do not kill my boy!" The shem noble pleads. "You said there was a way to save him! What is it?"

"As I had mentioned to the... Commander before," she snorts as she looks to me and crosses her arms. "If we had lyrium enough and at least two or three other mages of great enough skill, we could send another mage into the Fade to face and kill the demon possessing the boy there. He would be left unscathed."

"Then we will do this!" The shem noblewoman brightens. "Where do we get the things necessary?"

I look briefly at William. His lips are thinned in a small line together. I reply, "I would guess the Circle of Magi."

"The Circle?" She questions with a gasp. "That is at least a three-day journey from the castle."

"Would you rather us kill him?" She quickly shakes her head. Good. Don't want the killing of a child on my conscience even if it's a shem and his mother's Orlesian.

I look towards the shem Bann, "Do you have horses we could borrow?" We have to go to the Circle for the treaty anyway – might as well go and ask for assistance with the demon-child too.

He nods, "Although I wouldn't suggest simply... abandoning us here while traveling to the Circle. What if things were to take a turn for the worse while you're gone?"

I fight the urge to sigh. I'm trying to help these sodding shems. There is a Blight too people. A treaty needs honoring. "I'll only take a few others with me, and leave the rest of my men here to defend in the case of more walking dead." I look briefly at the Orlesian noble, "And do what's necessary if the boy gets out of control." Isolde visibly deflates.

"I'll stay behind," Alistair offers. "They could use my templar training... in case..." I hear William snort softly. He still hates Alistair. Ugh.

I look towards the witch, "I'd suggest you stay behind too, as you seem to know most of what the Void is going on here." She hesitates a bit before she nods. Also she's an apostate – wouldn't be sodding smart to bring an apostate to a Circle. Even if I don't like the witch.

I look down at Ward, "You too boy – you can't ride a horse." The mabari whimpers.

"I'm going with ya girlie," Oghren steps towards me and hits a fisted hand against his chest over his heart. "Wouldn't want ta see ya get made a meal out a darkspawn." Aw. One of the nicest things the dwarf has said to me. It's weird... He's kinda like a smelly uncle you only want to see once a year because he's a drunk. Wait. Did I just refer to the dwarf as my smelly uncle in my head?

"I'll go," William steps closer to me an exhales harshly through his nose. "I don't want to go to the Circle again, but I won't let you see those bastards without me lass."

"I shall go as well," the Orlesian says. "As a lay Sister of the Chantry, I may be some help in securing aid."

"I guess that means I shall stay behind Wardens," Zevran says as he leans against the nearby wall. "There seems to be more... _excitement _here." He just wants to see if Alistair and the witch will kill or fuck each other. I know.

Well...Good. We're all sorted then.

* * *

"What the Stone is that... thing?" Oghren asks as he looks up at the blonde mare I'm in the midst of saddling.

"A horse." He still looks befuddled. "You ride it." He's still staring at, oh what's this one's name... Blossom (awful! Who the sod named her?) dazedly. "You said you wanted to go."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He waves me off. "Who's sitting on what now?"

I look over at the Orlesian as she comes up with a grey speckled mare in tow... I think that one's name is Stormy. These people can't name horses. "You want the dwarf?"

"I'll ride the Chantry Sister. He he he," Oghren chuckles as he walks towards the Orlesian. "Wouldn't want Stretch ta get jealous." Eww. And eww some more. I had recently referred to you as uncle-like in my head.

"Right." William mutters as he walks towards me with a pack to secure. "I'm jealous of your charm," he says sarcastically.

"You bet!" Oghren smooths his hands down his large stomach. "All the ladies want a piece of Oghren."

I think we all collectively rolled our eyes.

We ride hard, but cautious of straining the horses. And Oghren cursing he's going to fall off the horse every few minutes and over every hill. I estimate that we can make it to the Circle in two day's time versus the three days via wagon or carriage. We find a place off-road to make camp, and William and I set up our shared tent (could've borrowed someone else's or bought a new one, I know. Shh). I made a barley and vegetable soup from what we could scrounge from the kitchens before we left, as Bodhan sold almost all his provisions to the villagers.

"Any thoughts on the demon-child?" I speak up as we all settle. William keeps occasionally looking in the direction of the Circle's tower, even though we can't see it through the trees from our current location. Since we've been sharing a tent, I've tried to take his mind off of his thoughts, as he doesn't keep a journal anymore – and I really can't help myself around him when we're alone. But... he's been quiet during our ride on horseback. And occasionally when we could see the tower over the tree tops I could feel him stiffen behind me on the horse's saddle, despite my armor. The Circle is _not _going to be pleasant. I can already tell.

"The lad didn't know any better," William sighs. "He just wanted to help his father. He can't be blamed for that. He was tricked."

"We will do what we can to help," the Orlesian reassured. "The Maker would not want to see a child come to harm."

William's jaw tightens at the last of her words, but before he could say anything (most likely snap at her) Oghren, thank Andraste, interjects, "I don't understand none of it. If that'd happen in Orzammar, we would a banished the boy to the Deep Roads." He belches. Well at least this time he waited to drink until he was served dinner, instead of before. Wouldn't want him loosing his fabulous stomach now. I'm rolling my eyes at my own thoughts.

I rub the side of my face. We'll stop talking about the demon-child. Apparently that wasn't a good topic to pick. "We'll take shorter single shifts between the four of us. I want to be on our way before sunrise – so I'll take last to make sure we're all up. Leliana first, Oghren second, and William third." Give William plenty of time to fall asleep, as I'm sure it'll take him a long time to, if he can at all.

* * *

William retires before me, and I enter to a steaming hot tent and a half-clothed William. Will not get sick of that sight. Nope. I crawl over to my bedroll as I kick off my boots and curl up to him as I kiss his chest. He's staring up at the ceiling of the tent deep in thought. I move to kiss his neck, and lick it a little. There we go – he's looking at me now. I give him a smile, "Care to talk?" I kiss his neck again, "Or not?"

I move up to kiss his cheek, and he turns to meet my lips with his own. We share a few short, soft kisses before I slide my tongue into his mouth eagerly. He breaks off the kiss before it can progress further, as I'm so about ready to straddle him (one of my legs may have went over his already). He sighs – one hand on my hip and the other on the side of my face. "I don't want to go there," he says honestly. "I'm not sure what will happen."

I move the hand that was inching towards his arse to his loose hair and run my fingers through it soothingly. "I'll tell you what'll happen." I smirk. "We'll walk straight up to the shem in charge, slam the treaty on his desk, and start bossing him around a bit for fun." I smile wider. "I'll even let you be the one to slam the treaty." I start to rub his scalp and he smiles back faintly. "You have your Grey Warden robes to wear," I still want to say 'dress'. "No one there can touch you, or Holly will hurt them." My smile turns a bit malicious. "I'll make sure of it. I'll personally see to it that their guts decorate the tower."

He moves closer to me, my leg completely wrapped around his own, and I lay my head on his chest. No sex it seems. Such a shame. "If you decide to gut them just because you feel like it, I wouldn't mind lass."

I snort. "They're not the ones that hurt you, remember? And besides, I'm not sure those that survive would honor the treaty."

I feel and hear his chuckle against my ear. "I suppose so." He's quiet for a bit, and I start to doze when I hear him whisper, "I won't let them hurt you either."

* * *

Before the sun has even risen, we have a quick breakfast of hard cheese and dried meat before we lead the horses to the edge of the lake, and set out again.

When the sun is high in the sky, we can clearly see the tower over the trees. We stop again to have a quick lunch of the same leftover cheese and meat, as we water the horses yet again. Oghren groans with his hands on his knees in clear pain of the hard riding we've been doing. "I think you need long legs to ride one of 'em critters." I've... never heard a horse referred to as a critter before. Huh. William casts a quick healing spell on the dwarf, and he sighs in relief. "Thanks Stretch."

"Where did you learn to ride Shiloh?" The Orlesian asks me. "I've not known many Fereldens to enjoy horses."

That's because it's a noble thing, and even then not many nobles – as horseback riding is an Orlesian thing. "My mother," I reply. "She taught me how to fight while on horseback and fight someone on horseback."

The other ginger-haired woman furrows her brows. "Why would she do that?"

"In case of Orlesians," I reply flatly.

A thrum of the damned variety pulses in my veins at that moment and I snap my gaze to William to see his eyes wide as he's felt it too – darkspawn. Fuckers.

"Darkspawn are approaching," I say to the two who can't feel their presence. I gather my helm quickly from where I've belted it to the mare's saddle and order, "Leliana – protect the horses." I do not want to think on what a sodding Blight infected horse looks like. I've seen both the bear and wolf varieties, that's enough thank you. "William – you're on support. Oghren's with me on the front."

I unsheathe Holly and run towards the direction I feel that flaming thrum coming from and yell a challenge to the unseen foes, "Get over here you sodders!"

The first genlock ambles through the woods only to be decapitated just as quickly with a thrust from Holly. The rest of the darkspawn flood through with grunts and warcries – arrows, magic, and blades cause them to meet their ends. I hate these fuckers.

* * *

It was a smallish-sized bunch of darkspawn that had attacked us, and so they were dispatched quickly. Oghren was glad that he'd come along – as he'd saved my arse and ensured I wasn't made a 'spawn's dinner. Flaming hurlock alphas. That one had a thing for knees.

By evening's approach we enter a small settlement built on the shore closest to the Circle tower. There's a tavern, a harshly constructed docks and a scattering of cottages. Not many people want to live near the arsehole templars, I guess. Or maybe they don't like the smell of oppression. Who the sod knows.

We walk towards the docks and the singular boat docked at it, after settling our horses near the hayloft and trough outside some tavern called the Spoiled Princess, for the dwarf to grumble, "I didn't know the thing was over the water." He stops in his tracks, "I ain't going in no boat. We dwarves sink like the stone we're born from."

I turn around to blink at him. "So?"

"I'll stay behind," he belches. "Maybe have 'er drink at the tavern there. You all can handle the Grey Warden business. I just came along ta kill stuff."

I sigh and wave him off. "Fine. We'll meet you here after."

"Right girlie," he gives me the dwarven salute and wobbles away. He might already be drunk.

My eyes quickly flicker to William. He's been quiet again, and he's staring at the tower with a hard look about him. This'll be fun. He'll come along though. I know he will no matter how uncomfortable this makes him – he had said he wouldn't leave me behind to do this.

We continue our walk and William asks, "Where's Kester? The ferryman?" I only see... that's a templar. Yay.

With my helm secured under my arm, I walk up towards the shem clad in armor... and a skirt. Heh. "We require transportation to the Circle."

"Yeah," the templar scrunches his nose. "Well no can do. The Knight-Commander himself ordered no one's to come or go."

"I'm Commander Shiloh Tabris of the Grey Wardens," I say stiffly. Sodding shem. "I have a treaty that demands the mages to provide men in the time of a Blight." The shem rolls his eyes, and I straighten myself to my full height. Arsehole. "I require transportation to the tower."

He crosses his arms over his armored chest. "Well if you're the Warden Commander, then that makes me the Queen of Antiva." He sniffles, "I don't care what paperwork you have – you're not getting across."

Fucking arsehole son of a mabari bitch. I step close to him and grab the collar of his chestplate before he knows what I'm doing. I drag him down to eye level. Sodding shem needs to learn to quit being an arse. "Hop into that little boat there and row us across before I break your nose."

"Listen knife-ear -" I don't give him the opportunity to say anything more. Call me knife-ear! A pulse of rage flits through me and before I consciously register it, my gauntleted fist has connected with his nose. Seems the only way to get through to these fuckers is with a nice punch to the face – just like that shem-arse back in Ostagar.

He groans in pain as he scrubs at his face leaking blood like a broken dam. I release his collar with a push back and he stumbles slightly. "If you don't take us across, you'll next make an acquaintance with my blade." I step close to him and peer into his fear-laced eyes, "And don't you dare call me a fucking knife-ear again. I am a Grey Warden – you will show respect shem."

He quickly hobbles into the boat, and we trail after. I catch William's gaze, and he seems pleased. He doesn't offer to heal the shem, and I'm not suggesting he does. That shem deserved that. I question the shem some on our boat-ride over – seems there's problems at the Circle. Great.

* * *

We climb the tower and find in the main room scattered mages and templars in varying stages of distress. Most look towards our small group as we enter – mostly teenage shems, a few elves here and there. What the sod all happened here exactly?

A greying shem with a beard and more ornate skirted templar armor walks sternly up to us, his gaze focused in on William. I can already tell he's an arse. The Knight-Commander I presume?

"I thought I'd told Carroll not to let _anyone_ into the tower. Including blood mage sympathizers?" He snorts his comment at William. Total arse. Let's forget decorum and start throwing insults. Arse.

"Surely you've gotten past all that Greagoir? From what your lackey on the docks said - it's not as if it was my fault."

"Be that as it may - we have started a lock-down in preparation for the Rite of Annulment." William tenses angrily at that. And that would be...

"What the sod is the Rite of Annulment?" I straighten and march to place myself before the shem-arse. "Oh and by the way - when you speak to the Grey Wardens - you speak to the Commander and that would be me."

"Commander?" He peers down at me impassively. "Very well. Seeing as we have time before the Rite arrives. In times that the tower is unsafe, the Veil sundered and demons slip into the waking world, mages become abominations and blood magic is practiced in more that simply a _one off event_. The tower enters what is known as lock-down. The templar forces and any mages deemed safe are brought to the foyer and the doors locked."

"I can see that," I reply sarcastically. "So the Rite of Annulment?" Let's try being diplomatic instead of punching, yes? "I assume it sounds as pleasant as it sounds?"

"A mage sympathizer." You say that like it's a bad thing. Fuck you. I'm near-snarling. Diplomacy... "The Templar Order does not take their duty lightly. The Rite of Annulment is called for during lock-down to remove the threat in the tower."

"They kill everything left behind the doors. Abominations, demons and also any innocent mages. Kill first ask questions later is the policy right Knight-Commander?" I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment in hating templars, as if I didn't have reason enough to hate them already.

"You can't just do that!" The Orlesian shouts, "The Maker would not allow His creation to be wasted. There must be survivors!"

I nod. "I agree. But we Grey Wardens came here for a reason. Putting personal feelings aside about the current situation; we have a treaty with the mages in the event of a Blight. We need troops and if all you have are the mages here-" I indicate those still scattered about the room, and notice a mage still staring intently with curiosity at our lot. "Then they will have to suffice."

"The templars cannot allow these mages from here until the tower is safe once more." Arse. Hole. I do think Grey Warden jurisdiction supersedes templar – it supersedes everything really.

William interjects again. "We also have need of these mages for another reason." I nod at William's words, and he leans to whisper against my ear, "None of the ones here would be able to find the right plane of the Fade to save Connor. A Senior Enchanter or even the First Enchanter would be the only option." Alright then. Let's get us one.

"This treaty-" Supersede this arse. I gesture for the treaty from William before holding it before me. "_Demands_ the skills of the mages. I need you to give us these mages _now_."

"I cannot without knowing the tower is safe."

You insist? Fine. I'll be diplomatic even if you'll bend in acquiescence as much as an ice-covered boulder. "So what needs to be done in order to make it safe?"

"The Rite of Annulment. No demon, blood mage or abomination must continue to live."

The Orlesian speaks up again. "But any innocent mages would be fine no?" That they would.

"Yes - the rest of the mages should be left alive," I ground out. Don't fucking kill innocents arse, or you'll meet more than my fist like your friend there.

"No," the shem shakes his head is disagreement. "We cannot take that chance. I will only spare the mages that survive if the First Enchanter himself can verify their status as non-blood mages. If anyone can survive the horrors we have barred behind the doors." Fucking...

"Then the only option is to get this First Enchanter," I reply irritably. "We'll go and kill these abominations and demons and these blood mages - in exchange for our treaty to be honored and the lives of the innocents."

"This isn't something to be taken upon lightly. I've lost good men in there!" The templar shem-arse exclaims. I'd like to see him take on an ogre. He'd shit his smalls. I think we're more than capable, thank you. Not saying it'll be easy of it. Blood mages and demons aren't any pleasant – I know from experience.

"And I was Irving's star pupil, Shiloh is the Commander of the Grey Wardens and Leliana here will be very difficult to take down with both of us on her side," William says angrily. My thoughts exactly. "So I suggest you open those doors - let us through and then roll out a red carpet when we come back after saving the tower."

"Impertinent, always been like that." Don't talk to him like that shem!

"No I haven't. I believe when I was only seven I was-"

The shem interrupts William, "You have your memories back?" In on it, were we? Arse.

"Aye." William meets his gaze straight on. "I want words when we come back."

"Nothing will dissuade you?" The arse huffs.

"No," William answers quickly and forcefully.

"Very well. If the Rite comes back in your absence I will be lenient towards your group. Save Irving or else the tower is truly lost. I don't believe even he would be part of this farce." Slightly less of an arse.

"We'll save him. But this isn't my group. It's Shiloh's." I nod at the templar at William's words.

The Knight-Commander turns away from us to address his knights in order to allow us to prepare before entering. I double-check my belt (everything looked to be in the right places) and look to the others, who nod in return. I turn back towards the door, about to place my helmet on my head, when I notice that elf looking curiously at our group again. She seems a few years older than me or William, and is wearing dark purple robes in a similar style to the ones William was wearing when I first met him. Her skin is similar in shade as what Mamae's was, and her short hair is as dark as her eyes. What's most distinctive are the yellow swirling tattoos starkly visible against her darker skin. She seems most focused on William, but who can blame her? William's from here after all, and if some recognize him, probably all do. Heck if the alienage is close-knit, I can only imagine how close everyone is in the Circle. She's probably wondering what the Void he's doing back, especially as it seems the Circle is a gigantic shit pile full of arsehole templars.

I decide to keep my helm tucked under my arm for the time being, and we take a few steps, just passing where the purple-clad elf has been leaning against the wall, when she walks up towards William beside me.

She smiles a little just before she says, "Well I never thought I'd see you again after that Grey Warden took you." And... did she just hug William? William goes stock still and actually has a panicked look on his face. I kinda want to laugh. She's just saying hello. Shit. I'm a hugger too, you know? What? Am I supposed to get jealous over a little hug?

I purse my lips together to hide my amusement as she pulls back and looks up at William with an irritated expression, "Well don't hug me back – I can see just how much you missed me!" She sniffs at him with her hands still on his forearms.

So... They know each other well then? More than just acquaintances who happen to live in the same tower? Friends? William's still not speaking with his wide, panicked eyes. I'm clearly missing something. I'll interject then. "And you are?" I ask with a raised brow.

William snaps into action and quickly removes the other elf's hands from his arms. "Shiloh," he looks at me and still looks panicked. Odd. "This is Flora Surana," he gestures vaguely in the woman's direction as he still looks towards me. "She's a fellow Ponderous Mage and Spirit Healer." He looks towards the woman quickly and gestures to me, "Flora – this is Shiloh Tabris, Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden." He takes a half a step back and fidgets slightly in nervousness. Still not getting it. Wait... Flora. I recognize her name! She is one of his friends!

I offer her a genuine smile. "I think he met you when he was fourteen, right? You're one of William's friends?" I remember that from what I read of his journal – I think. Hopefully that's right. I extend a gauntleted hand, "It's nice to meet you."

She takes it and shakes once. "Likewise." She smiles impishly, and I'm a _little_curious as to what brought that on. "So... I'm joining your lot in there." She points at the templar-guarded doors.

"Oh – you don't need to do that. We have plenty of people," William hastily interjects. I look at him with a furrowed brow. Uh – I don't think it's a good idea to dismiss her. And... I'm fairly certain I'm the commander. Even if we're together, I'm still the commander here. Not that I'm pulling rank or anything.

"We have one other person to help us kill a shit load of blood mages and abominations. By the way the Knight-Commander is acting, I think we should take all the help we can get," I say to William.

"Shit," William curses under his breath.

Flora turns her smile on William, "What a lovely thing to say," she says sarcastically and then looks towards me with a smirk. "He's terrible isn't he?"

William still looks panicky and a sodding lot uncomfortable. I try to comfort him by carefully wrapping an armored arm around his waist as I reply to his childhood friend, "Nah, I think he's quite alright." I step on my toes a bit to kiss William's chin careful of my armor. He's still stock still. What is going on with him?

"Oh," Flora says with a click of her tongue. "I can see why he'd not want me to come along now."

I remove my arm from William's waist and look at the woman with a confused expression crinkling my face. What now?

William starts to walk around me quickly towards the doors as he says in a hurried voice, "Let's just get rid of the abominations and save some mages, huh? Come on – there has to be some survivors!"

I blink after him, confused at his sudden enthusiasm to continue with our quest, and move my helm into both my hands, "Yes... Get them to open those sodding doors!"

Just before I can put my helm on, I feel the weight of something on my shoulder, and turn to see Flora's hand on it as she leans close to me to whisper, "He's good isn't he?"

I blink at her. What the fuck am I missing? "Um..."

She smirks and pulls back, "Don't play coy. I know that look."

Seriously, what the fuck? "What do you mean?"

She shakes her head and looks quickly at William before looking back at me, "He didn't tell you? I don't suppose it comes up in everyday conversation, does it?"

What the – oh shit. She's the girl that asked William to... Oh fucking mabari shit. I quickly snap my gaze to William. Fucker could have warned me! I put my winged helm on quickly to hide my sour expression. I steal a glance at Flora again. Apparently William has a type, and that's Rivaini, elven, and... shit. I just agreed to her coming along too. Oh this is going to be fun. Not.


	25. (Apollo Wings) The Tower of Blood

Author note: Long chapter to keep the whole quest into one chapter from the POV of the person who knows magic... including a AU Fade experience. I expect 15k words - but I'll bet you it gets longer...

after writing - yeah - I'm not writing a 15k word chapter. Shiloh wanted in. William wanted out.

Also - you as of The Past that William is technically manic/depressive in a way - having periods of time where gore and death don't bother him it's so commonplace to scrubbing himself relentlessly, the brief shining moments when the 'old' William comes back where he's caring and he's sarky or smiles. I suppose in game you'd call it 'hardening'. It's also a bit like layering the old personality with the new one sometimes - where he is still the 'old' William but more grim and determined (if this had happened before the Orzammar questline I seriously could see him preserving the Anvil, siding with Bhelen and the werewolves - if the only Warden PC - as well as all manner of evil-type things that people assume more callous people do in game).

It's a fun challenge to do this.

* * *

**William Amell**

The tower is on lock-down. That means that blood magic is suspected or has been used in great numbers and/or demons have crossed the Veil. The whole foyer of the main tower is cram-packed with the lyrium resonance I just love about templars... and mages. Very upset looking mages and I recognize every single one. If that doesn't get me worked up - I'm not sure what will. But I'm being a good Grey Warden. I'm not burning templars today.

I wish I'd stayed with Oghren in the Spoiled Princess tavern. The boat ride was fairly choppy though - Kester the ferryman knew the waters. Carroll - fucking templar doesn't.

But the slight queasiness in my stomach isn't to do with the rough boat ride. The Veil is thin. In future I'm going to start gambling. Fifty silver on 'yes' for our next destination to have a thin Veil? I'd make a fortune. Oh and top the thin Veil with a very angry looking Knight-Commander who just so happens to be looking directly at me.

"I thought I'd told Carroll not to let _anyone_ into the tower. Including blood mage sympathizers?" He snorts - yeah - at me.

"Surely you've gotten past all that Greagoir?" Wow - I said a templars name! It feels oddly irreverent. I'm going to have to try it more often. "From what your lackey on the docks said - it's not as if it was my fault."

"Be that as it may - we have started a lock-down in preparation for the Rite of Annulment." No - don't you dare you fucking bastard. Not all mages are weak or easily corralled. If anyone in there is alive they won't go down without a fight. My right hand curls into a fist - as if my katana were in hand I'd be very willing to hurt a certain templar.

"What the sod is the Rite of Annulment?" Shiloh steps forward. "Oh and by the way - when you speak to the Grey Wardens - you speak to the Commander and that would be me."

"Commander?" He turns to her. "Very well. Seeing as we have time before the Rite arrives. In times that the tower is unsafe, the Veil sundered and demons slip into the waking world, mages become abominations and blood magic is practiced in more that simply a _one off event_." That last bit was directed at me because of Jowan. Oops? "The tower enters what is known as lock-down. The templar forces and any mages deemed safe are brought to the foyer and the doors locked."

"I can see that. So the Rite of Annulment?" She smiles sweetly - a fake plastered smile. Thank the Maker that this beautiful woman doesn't like templars but has just a wee bit of diplomacy. "I assume it sounds as pleasant as it sounds?"

"A mage sympathizer." He notes dryly. "The Templar Order does not take their duty lightly." Oh really - I know of a few that do. "The Rite of Annulment is called for during lock-down to remove the threat in the tower."

"They kill everything left behind the doors. Abominations, demons and also any innocent mages. Kill first ask questions later is the policy right Knight-Commander?" I clarified - and got glared at by a certain templar again. Don't you stink-eye me templar. I'm not under your jurisdiction. Grey Warden. Plus - if you kept the glare up you might expend less energy in stopping and starting.

"You can't just do that!" Leliana called out from behind us. "The Maker would not allow His creation to be wasted. There must be survivors!" I fight the snarl about the use of 'The Maker' but thank you for adding to my point Leliana.

"I agree. But we Grey Wardens came here for a reason. Putting personal feelings aside about the current situation; we have a treaty with the mages in the event of a Blight. We need troops and if all you have are the mages here-" She gestured around the room. "Then they will have to suffice."

"The templars cannot allow these mages from here until the tower is safe once more." Greagoir - I believe you used to be much nicer than this. Be reasonable. You get your blood sport and we get our mages. Oh... shit. We need Irving. I don't fucking well see the First Enchanter! There isn't a single Senior Enchanter here - just mages and apprentices. Not even Enchanters! Oh holy fuck...

"We also have need of these mages for another reason." I reminded Shiloh and she nodded grimly looking around. I leaned forward to her ear and whispered the next part. "None of the ones here would be able to find the right plane of the Fade to save Connor. A Senior Enchanter or even the First Enchanter would be the only option."

"This treaty-" Shiloh gestures to my satchel and I pull the treaty out. "_Demands_ the skills of the mages. I need you to give us these mages _now_."

"I cannot without knowing the tower is safe." The Knight-Commander reiterates.

"So what needs to be done in order to make it safe?" Shiloh coolly responds. Don't think about enacting the Rite for them. Don't you dare... I love you but I'd have to stop you.

"The Rite of Annulment. No demon, blood mage or abomination must continue to live." He answers.

"But any innocent mages would be fine no?" Leliana adds impertinently. Oh - I see where this is going. If we go through the tower we can kill the abominations and demons as well as save any of the mages still alive. I like this. Let's do it.

"Yes - the rest of the mages should be left alive." Shiloh adds harshly.

"No." The Knight-Commander shakes his head. "We cannot take that chance. I will only spare the mages that survive if the First Enchanter himself can verify their status as non-blood mages. If anyone can survive the horrors we have barred behind the doors."

"Then the only option is to get this First Enchanter." Shiloh huffs. "We'll go and kill these abominations and demons and these blood mages - in exchange for our treaty to be honored and the lives of the innocents."

"This isn't something to be taken upon lightly. I've lost good men in there!" The Knight-Commander exclaims.

"And I was Irving's star pupil, Shiloh is the Commander of the Grey Wardens and Leliana here will be very difficult to take down with both of us on her side." I declare through clenched teeth. "So I suggest you open those doors - let us through and then roll out a red carpet when we come back after saving the tower."

I get super glared at. "Impertinent, always been like that."

"No I haven't. I believe when I was only seven I was-" I was cut off.

"You have your memories back?" His tone is incredulous.

"Aye." I bite the inside of my cheek. Balls of steel in this staring contest. "I want words when we come back."

"Nothing will dissuade you?" He adds.

"No."

"Very well. If the Rite comes back in your absence I will be lenient towards your group." Thank the Maker for small favors. "Save Irving or else the tower is truly lost. I don't believe even he would be part of this farce."

"We'll save him. But this isn't my group. It's Shiloh's." I turn away from him and Shiloh just gives him a terse nod before she goes to put on her helmet.

"Men - open the doors for the Grey Wardens." Then my blood chilled in my veins as we neared - oh fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Flora. Who happens to be looking right at me, that damned impish smile on her face. And wouldn't you know it - she's walking toward us.

"Well I never thought I'd see you again after that Grey Warden took you." Then she's hugging me, her entire body flush against me and I try to remain as still as possible. Not happening. Who in their right mind can even think when this happens. Oh by the way Shiloh, remember I told you about the friend of mine I loved, the one that asked me to take her virginity - who also used me? That's not a good record I have with friends using me. Flora breaks the embrace a little, her hands still on my forearms, taking in my appearance. "Well don't hug me back - I can see just how much you missed me!" Like a hole in the head actually. I'm not going to say that - because we're supposed to be friends no matter how weird this is.

"And you are?" Shiloh asks and I quickly move completely away from Flora.

"Shiloh, this is Flora Surana." I gesture at the Rivaini elf without looking at her. "She's a fellow Ponderous Mage and Spirit Healer." I should have told Shiloh beforehand. Shit... "Flora - this is Shiloh Tabris. Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden." I gesture at the... half-Rivaini elf. Ah - how would Shiloh have put it? Shit on a mabari? This is not looking good. If Shiloh puts two and two together she's going to think I'm a lecherous bastard who just likes Rivaini elves. Coincidences are horrid things. I'll tell her when Flora is gone. Oh by the way - I've had sex with that lass. Yes - I go for them when they have similar traits. Shit shit shit.

Not that they're similar in that many ways at all. Flora can be a complete bitch when she wants to be. Shiloh is firm in her 'Orlesians and undeserving shems' get her bitchiness. Oh and their hair, their eyes - Flora has her tattoos. Shiloh is paler than Flora... that's mainly physical attributes. Shiloh is loving, kind, patient with me. Flora never was. She was callous, demanding. "I think he met you when he was fourteen right?" Shiloh hasn't cottoned on yet - especially with the tone she's using - it's very polite. "You're one of William's friends?" Her gauntlet clad hand is extended and Flora takes the hand, that impish smile still there. Please don't say anything - I can see hands getting crushed. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Flora lets go of her hand before looking at our group and shrugging slightly. " So... I'm joining your lot in there." She motions with a thumb at the barred doors into the main tower.

No you're not. Nuh-uh. This has been a weird enough experience that I never want to happen again. "Oh – you don't need to do that. We have plenty of people." You're not coming. Nope. Shiloh, myself and Leliana will be fine enough once we start finding other mages still alive. We can get them to come with us.

"We have one other person to help us kill a shit load of of blood mages and abominations. By the way the Knight-Commander is acting, I think we should take all the help we can get." Oh Shiloh - don't make me tell you exactly why Flora really shouldn't come with us.

"Shit." That's all I can actually say though. Because - well - I'm slightly worried when Shiloh gets pissed and although it might be funny to see her get angry with templars - no enjoyable to see her get angry with templars - we have a tower of mages to save.

"What a lovely thing to say." Flora snarks. "He's terrible isn't he?" Oh don't say that. That was a bit of an inside joke at Shiloh's expense. 'You're terrible, a danger to sensible women everywhere'... because of the lightning trick obviously. I'm glad that Shiloh won't get the reference. If she knew... Maker. I'm actually so close to being dead it's not funny.

A armored arm snakes around my waist and a familiar cold burning thrum sidles up to me. "Nah, I think he's quite alright." Then I get a kiss on the jaw. Still - remain still. Their vision is based on movement.

"Oh I see why he'd not want me to come along now." Flora over-expresses with a roll of her eyes. She bloody well knew before. She assumed I was having it off with every apprentice that tried to be my friend after... even though we weren't together. At least Shiloh isn't that jealous. I slip from Shiloh's embrace and stride toward the doors.

"Let's just get rid of the abominations and save some mages, huh? Come on – there has to be some survivors!" Let's just move on... I'm very uncomfortable.

"Yes... Get them to open those sodding doors!" Shiloh says to me.

"You heard the lady." I say to the templar at the door. His helmet is on so I don't know which one he is. But it's slightly more comfortable to say something to him than being in conversation between Flora and Shiloh. Maker... someone set me on fire?

The doors are pulled open after a few awkward moments and Shiloh strides ahead of me a moment and I start to match her pace. So far so good... no magic nearby. Leliana puts a hand on my shoulder and draws me back a moment while Flora sashays past after Shiloh.

"That elf... Flora?" She whispers. "Just told Shiloh that she and you..."

"Shit." I mutter. Shiloh knows now. "Thank you for telling me. This just got even more awkward."

The doors slam closed and I hurry up to catch up to the two elves. "We should check the dormitories... there's children in here and there weren't any in the foyer."

"Yes... we should check." Shiloh's voice has this bit of bite to it as she speaks to us all. Damn Flora.

"This is Wisp Ward... the youngest dormitories." I push the first door open with a foot and it's completely empty. No demons, no abominations, no blood mages... just empty. This is eerie. "Let's move to the next one then..."

"Seeing as you know this tower so well." Shiloh really has some bite in her voice. "Perhaps you'd like to lead. Maybe we can get through this as quickly as possible?" Yes - I agree. But I'm not a leader... Although there might be an ulterior motive at play here... I know magic and the tower itself. I also might have pissed her off with Flora. Not my intentions. But that's how it's happened.

"Aye... I know this tower like the back of my hand." I stand still... something feels off. "Shit - there's a demon close by. Everyone follow me!" I start to run down the hallway, sandstone thudding as I draw my katana out and continue to run. It feels like Rage. Not a huge pain with my new Elementalist skills but annoying and it's going to be interesting introducing Shiloh to the pains that I have to put up with when demons enter the real world.

I round the corner to see arcane shielding up around a group of mages - well here's some survivors right off the bat! Yay! And a singular Rage Demon attacking the shield. I shot a Winter's Grasp at the demon and kept running, switching the katana to a two handed grip and slamming it vertically down the frozen demon, shards of it skittering away as it seeped back into the ether of the Fade. Damn thin Veil. The arcane shielding came down and...

"William?" I know that voice. Petra! A sight for sore eyes fellow Spirit Healer... and Eadric! Oh - two Arcanists were holding that shield. No wonder the demon was having difficulties. "When did you become an Elementalist?"

"Long story." I sighed. "You survived!"

"I did too you Marcher bastard." Eadric smiled at me. "How's life as a Grey Warden?"

"I kill shit." I shrugged. "I guess my conscription-"

"Was the talk of the tower? Oh yeah." Eadric snorted. "What are you doing back? And at a time like this!"

"Greagoir wants to enact the Rite of Annulment... so I'm stopping him?" I tried. Eadric and Petra shuddered before a look crossed their faces of determination.

"Good. Everyone here has been shitting their pants since Uldred started this stupid protest." Eadric set his jaw before he pointed behind me - three women came running around the corner. Wait - Uldred? He was at Ostagar? How did he make it out of there alive? Any why did he start this? The Rite of Annulment is being threatened! Before I could say anything Shiloh's thrumming presence is next to me.

"More friends?" Shiloh drawled, taking her helmet off briefly. I didn't run that fast seeing as she's just turned up... but yes.

"Allow me to introduce you-" I started before the hotheaded elven mage brushed past me to speak for himself.

"Eadric Thomas." Eadric stepped forward bowing to Shiloh with a smirk on his face.

"And Petra Lyons." Petra grinned, slapping Eadric on his exposed behind. I miss this. Friends... "Oh and the apprentice quivering and praying for the Maker to save her in the corner is Kinnon - don't speak to her because I think she's touched in the head."

"You're all wearing the same robes..." Shiloh's eyebrows furrowed, her gaze flicking between Flora, Petra and Eadric suspiciously.

"Mundanes don't know?" Eadric glanced at me. "The feathery stuff is to show we're Spirit Healers. The purple is a sign we're Arcanists." He explained. "I hate purple. I get called a girl way too often."

"Get here girl. I'll make you feel like a man." Petra purred at him, to whit he turned a nice shade of pink.

"So green was?" Her shoulders squared back. "Never mind. I'll ask later. I'm Commander Shiloh Tabris of the Grey Wardens. I'd like it if all able mages join us in saving any more survivors and the children and that Kinnon girl could all file to the doors of the tower for safety."

"Wisp Ward is empty... just eerily empty." I added.

"Kinnon! Stop praying for Andraste to come down and deliver us from the curse of magic and herd these children to Wisp Ward!" Petra called over. Kinnon glared at her before getting up of her knees and ushering the children past us. At least she was good with children.

"Come on then... do you know if there are more survivors?" I asked as Petra and Eadric came into step with me as we continued.

"Wynne left about an hour ago to try and save the tower. She wouldn't let any of us come." Eadric answered, his blushing gone now. Wynne survived Ostagar too? Were there any mages actually on the field? If Uldred and Wynne both survived they most probably weren't in the battle. So Uldred, Wynne and Wendel were out of battle - meaning only four mages actually on the field. Wonderful.

* * *

Everything was eerie quiet. Too quiet. Isn't the tower supposed to be all demons and blood mages and abominations? This is just empty. We rounded into the library to not hear a thing still. It's too quiet. Flora was smirking - her gaze directed at the corner... where. Hmm. And both Leliana and Shiloh were glaring at her. Well at least I'm not the only one who's none too pleased about her being this infuriating.

Suddenly a yell came out from behind the second bookcase by the sound of it and the six of us whirled into motion, weaponry drawn and running to it. Shiloh shifted her helmet on and there was a sound of faint cursing from underneath.

Abominations. Five of the bastards. Magic and might and ugly all a horrid mix. "Leliana - protect the Arcanists - Shiloh - we're up front!"

I summoned up the dust in the air to throw the nearest abomination a stone fist as Shiloh moved to slam Holly pommel first at an abomination in the gut.

From behind us I felt the stirring as the veil was manipulated and three crushing prisons erupted simultaneously on the three abominations not attacked yet. Arrows shot over Shiloh's head and one landed in her abomination's head, the other in it's shoulder.

I sent a fireball at the abomination I was attacking and it merely rolled the long limb it hit as if bruised. Fuck. I drew up some static and fired again - this time discharging at all five abominations.

These bastards just don't like going down do they? Right. I tightened my grip on my katana and charged forward, whacking heavily sideways at the head of the abomination, the sharp blade cutting clean and gruesomely through bone and twisted flesh before the abomination dropped. So magic against abominations is a shitty idea. And we have four mages and technically three melee fighters (if I include myself in both).

Shiloh screamed as one of the abominations previously in a crushing prison shot a torrent of flames at her. Oh fuck no.

Arrows zoomed through the air and landed through abomination head and I was rushing to Shiloh where her own abomination was hacked into bloody gashes and still alive, hilting my katana in the sickly flesh and petrifying it before sliding the blade out.

Suddenly an Arcane Shield popped up around us and the three downed abominations had burst into flames, thank you whoever put that shield up - because we'd have been toasted then. I quickly healed Shiloh as I was right next to her. As the shield came down Shiloh and I moved as one to attack each of the two remaining abominations.

I slashed at the exposed chest and a clawed hand swept sideways at my face. Fuck! I felt the blood dripping over me from the cuts and the tingly healing stitching it back up from a distance (one of the other mages - fucked if I know who because we're all healers) as I moved again to jab with my katana before utilizing the Arcane Warrior strength to cut through bone and gristle. The abomination went down with a wet slap on the sandstone and I glanced over to see Shiloh panting for breath - a mutilated abomination at her feet.

"Move away quick!" Petra called as she put arcane shielding up over the two abominations, the flames exploding into them before dying down and she dropped the shield.

"The fuck were they?" Shiloh ground out.

"Abominations. Nasty buggers with the strength and magic of a demon and mage combined. They turn their hosts inside out because the mage wasn't powerful enough to prevent it." I answered, sheathing my sword at my hip. Which explains how Connor is an abomination without looking like these ugly creatures. He might not have skills in spellwork yet but he's most probably latently powerful. If he ends up here he'll get eaten alive. I almost want to bundle the young lad up and hide him myself.

"Nasty buggers is an understatement." She shook a flick of blood off Holly before sheathing her on her back. Maker - I swear I refer to her sword as a person. I suppose she is in a way. Still a weird thought in my head. Holly is a formidable woman. "So-"

"Wynne!" Petra ran forward - noticing the Red Tevinter robed form, burnt... dead on the floor. Maker... I'd never really liked her but I didn't hate her! She's dead! Petra grasped burnt feathered shoulders and shook the limp body. "Wake up you stupid woman! You should have brought some of us with you! Wake up!"

"Petra..." Eadric walked calmly to her. "We need to keep moving... you feel more demons ahead don't you?"

"Don't be so bloody callous you bastard!" Petra sobbed. "She was our tutor - all our tutors! She taught all of us Spirit Healing."

"And her teachings continue if we all survive." I soothed. "Wynne wouldn't want us to break down. She'd have wanted us to save the tower."

"Petra... love." Eadric bent to her level and cradled her cheek. "We're out in the open against demons. We're going be pitted against blood mages - people we've known most of our lives. We'll see dead friends and acquaintances."

"I know." Her tone became resigned and she let go of the Senior Enchanter as she stood up, her hand clasped to his. "Thank you." She smiled and pecked his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too... come on. William - lead the way!" Eadric blushed.

"Aye." I nodded and glanced over to Shiloh. She'd watched in rapt silence - I have no idea what her reaction to all of this is because she seems to be keeping her helmet on now. "Are we burning the dead as we go?"

"On the way back. We're not wasting mana." Flora's tone was icy. I know it's sensible and I'm the only mage here capable of flame - but still.

"That would be sensible." Leliana's eyes fluttered closed. "We'll hold proper service for all these souls."

"Eadric - you're the best Spirit Healer here, keep a Healing Aura up at all times, Petra and Flora - Arcane attack and shielding. Leliana - daggers and make sure nothing gets past me and Shiloh. We'll be the front lines." Shiloh nodded in acquiescence as did everyone else.

* * *

We climbed upwards in the tower - out of the bloody library thank the Maker for small favors and into the central storage room. Is that? "Owain?" Eadric ran up to the Tranquil. "Get your Tranquil arse out of here. There's demons and abominations about!"

"But the store rooms need re-ordering." A shiver settled down my spine - and every mage here's spine at his monotone. Lifeless.

"You can re-order later. Your safety is needed now." Petra gestured for the stairs. "There are apprentice children who have lost their journals in Wisp Ward. I'm sure they'll appreciate help finding them." Owain nodded to her before calmly going to the stairs.

"Tranquil?" Shiloh breathed, her hand touching the area her forehead would be over her winged helmet. Yes - the brand looks horrid.

"Aye... Tranquil." I suddenly got a hug from the side. Ow - armor.

"Any more horrid things templars do to mages?" She asked. I'm glad she hasn't got the biting tone at the moment. I suppose it's an issue we'll have to address when our lives aren't at risk though.

"Tranquil, beating, raping, any relationships are used against us." My mouth pinched to the side. "And if any of us have bairns they're taken away after the birth."

"What!" Her head glared up at me. "Those sodding..."

"We're all used to it." Petra snapped - I know for a fact that's a subject close to her heart - she was a very late manifester, already sixteen when she showed powers and already betrothed so some lord - needless to say that was called off before her parents packed her off with the templars but she always seemed more down if anyone mentioned children. "I feel a demon... a strong one. That way." She pointed to the right.

"Let's go then." I took a deep breath. "It feels strong enough to be perhaps a Desire demon?"

"I'd say Despair." Eadric sucked his bottom lip in.

* * *

"Ah... more mortals. So perfect." Desire demon. Called it. "Such better hosts than these weak fools." Its clawed purple hand gestured at the dead templars stacking into a bookshelf and slumped on a desk. "How about you... a powerful elven mage, don't you want-" It's breath hitched at the claw brushed upwards over a nipple with only a small disk of metal to cover it. It floated to Eadric and it's head was mere inches from his. "Or you..."

It's attention turned to Petra. "You're a natural aren't you." Petra glared at the demon she was fairly natural when it came to magic... no I'm not agreeing with the fucking demon. "Shame... now this one." It's attentions moved to me.

"Die you fucking-" I grabbed hold of it's throat as it came close and slammed it heavily to the ground. "You don't fuck with my mind." The demon writhed as I squeezed, Arcane Warrior strength closing it's airways. I brought the static in the room together and channeled it though my hand. It's body shuddered and cracked.

"Fool mortal!" Were isn't last words as it succumbed to the onslaught of lightning. Good. Better be fucking well dead. It disappeared into the ether of the Veil to return to the Fade. Good.

"I couldn't move!" Leliana breathed. "It was as if she was controlling my mind!"

"You couldn't Orlesian! I saw-" Shiloh faltered in her speech. "That doesn't matter."

"How come you of all people managed to actually move?" Flora questioned. "I don't remember you having that much willpower."

"Maybe I decided I don't like getting used or having my mind fucked with" I replied coldly. Because there's not just the fact that you used me Flora to lose your virginity. There's the fact that you and Jowan both knew the second time I lost my memories was a mind blanking. I really need to have a good old fashioned chat with Irving with about that. As well as the Knight-Commander.

"You got your memories back?" Her eyes widened. "Shit."

"Aye. It makes most of my life seem so much worse. Like certain-"

"You two. This is old news." Petra cut off the argument that was going to happen. Petra and Eadric both didn't know about the farce of my memory blanking. They knew it happened - but not why.

The three Arcanists strode out of the room at Eadric's asking to leave us Grey Wardens time to think. "Shiloh..." I neared the berserker. "I wish I'd told you about all of this-"

"Before. Yeah. I know. We'll talk when this is over." Her words were terse and I slumped a little.

"Okay." I pursed my lips. "We have a tower to save."

* * *

We ended up having to run past out three Arcanists while they kept shields up as we found them ahead. Blood Mages.

Thats... Tyla, Liana and Devens. I don't know if I can hurt people I know. Then a tendril of blood grasped both Shiloh and Leliana.

That's it. I'm killing these stupid people. They don't hurt my friend and the woman I love without knowing that they're in trouble.

I pulled a chunk of the tower wall out and it landed with a heavy squish on Tyla - her heartbeat was deafeningly quiet. That's the Entropist out then. _Why don't you join them? They wish for you all to be free. _That sounded like - Senior Enchanter Uldred. Oh he doesn't know how dead he'll be.

Devens drew his staff up and his hand slipped over the bladed end. A Crushing Prison suddenly sprang over him and he rose up, his blood dripping down as he was crushed from the inside out.

I slammed a bolt of lightning at Liana and she dropped down dead as a doornail. Shiloh and Leliana shook themselves out of their blood magic stupors, the Chantry Sister drawing her dual daggers and flitting to Devens, her blades skewering though him. He laughed as he died, blood spluttering from his form.

We regrouped. "Shit. I knew them all." Eadric brushed a hand through his short mouse-brown hair. "How could they all do this? It hurts the cause of all of us when the few turn to blood magic."

"I can't believe it either." Petra sighed. "It hurts - they were all friends. Their magic turned against us."

"This one is alive!" Leliana called out as she shook blood off her daggers before sheathing them. Shiloh hurried over to the rogue.

"Now you're going to tell us exactly why you're doing all of this!" She snarled.

"Liana?" I neared the orange clad Nevarran mage. "Of all people I would never have thought you'd turn to blood magic."

"William!" Her eyes widened. "Oh... fluffy bunnies." Leliana and Shiloh both snorted.

"Fluffy bunnies?" Shiloh's tone was amused and she took of her helmet, her hair stuck to her head in lightly sweated clumps. "I'd never have imagined a blood mage even saying bunnies or fluffy let alone in the same sentence."

"That's how she swears." Eadric drawled sarcastically.

"You all know each other don't you?" Shiloh glanced between all five of us mages.

"When they thought I might have been a Spiritualist I was in lessons with her a while. They couldn't figure out what I was until I cast lightning purely by accident." I shrugged. "Still - of all people Liana."

"I was desperate! I could not live like this anymore. They - they..." She hung her head. "Please do not kill me. I know I have done wrong but I do not want to die."

"So you entrusted your soul to a demon?" I just glared. I can't afford to think of the fact I know these people. They're threatening the safety of every mage in this tower. If we hadn't arrived when we did - they'd all be dead. "What did the templars do?"

Liana looked hesitantly at everyone else before shuffling forward on her knees. "I... I cannot say it aloud. It was... I was so..." I know. If she's lying she's a brilliant actor but I don't think so. It's not like many of us are that social creatures in the tower. Acting isn't on the curriculum for the fact we'd know how to lie proper. Plus - Nevarrans aren't well know for their acting and jokes. Liana however - is well know for her almost childlike way of viewing things.

"We're not going to kill you." Shiloh puts her hand out for Liana to grasp hold of. "But you're going to work for us shem."

"That isn't going to be a good idea." I breathed to her. "If the templars knew she's a blood mage - and they feel demons too - we'd all be up for execution."

"Oh I never actually made a deal with a demon!" Liana's eyes widened further. "I was taught by Devens..." She looked briefly at his body. "He wanted me to give up my soul... but I could not. So he told me how to do the magic."

"Well - you can stop using that fucking stuff." Eadric snarled. "I swear... the last thing we would have needed was a Spiritualist _and_ a blood mage against us!"

"What's that?" Shiloh asked. I swear I must have told her something about magic at some point of this journey we've been on. I might have been more explicative over Galvanism and Spirit Healing though.

"I work with the Spirit school of magic." Liana answered. "Walking bombs, Spirit Bolts, Death Syphon... I attack using the very soul as a target in combination with blood. It's an - iffy - school of magic. Most places do not like teaching it because of the resemblance to blood magic. As you can hear - I'm Nevarran - it's like breathing for us in the circle there. Death Magic is another specialty of the College of Magi... but that is only taught in Nevarra."

"Nice!" Was the sarcastic reply from Shiloh. Liana actually babbles worse that I do now. Hmm... I never thought that before. It was just the way most of us spoke in the tower.

"So... Liana." I took her hands and looked at the bloody scars. "I can heal these but you have to promise never to use blood magic ever again."

"Keep your magic for Galvanism William." Eadric smiled. "It's not like we don't have plenty of healers oh - and no lyrium."

"I have a key for the store rooms!" Liana grinned, pulling a silvery key from her pocket in her robes. "Which just so happens to have plenty of lyrium in."

"Sounds like the best place to stop off next then." Shiloh returned her helmet to her head. "Seeing as we have five mages now." I really love you Shiloh - we've killed two mages in this tower and saved three - four including Kinnon and then the gaggle of children. We're saving mages. If the templars had their way - there'd just be death.

* * *

Battle with Rage Demons to get lyrium. Weak against ice and spirit magic. Nothing else but they are fairly weak as far as demons go. I'm fairly glad we have Liana with us now. The Nevarran lass really knows how to send demons back to the Void they came from. I do suppose technically being a blood mage means she's plagued by them more.

Our Arcanists basically became the only thing stopping shards of ice blowing up over us all though. And healing the living daylights out of Liana and myself when molten demon shards hit us. I am so thankful for my Warden robes - they're actually fairly protective compared to normal robes.

"Those are?" Shiloh huffed. Holly was dripping with hardening Rage Demon and I quickly turned the rock into dust. I got a nod for that because she's in her helmet.

"Rage Demons - the weakest type of demon." Flora sniffed. "You really are thick aren't you?"

"Flora!" I gasped, actually gasped. "Did you ever learn social skills?"

"I'm just stating a fact." She shrugged. "So blood mage - where's the lyrium? Or is this an ambush and we'll get attacked by your cohorts?"

"This is not - I..." Liana looked at the floor awkwardly. "The lyrium is in that chest over there - if anyone wants to melt the lock."

"I can pick it. Save the trouble." Leliana smiled, her eyes flitting between Flora and Shiloh - who is clenching her fists and shaking ever so slightly. Leliana crouched down to the ornate chest and drew a thin strip of metal from her belt and her hairpin out of the thin braid in her hair. Her tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth then she started whistling before there was a _click_ and the chest pinged open.

"You make that look easy." Petra laughed. "I'd have preferred to melt the Blighted thing."

"If you could melt it." Eadric grinned, drawing her close by the waist and nuzzling her neck ever so slightly.

"Eadric! Public displays!" Petra gasped and she drew a dainty hand down the side of his face and back up over his ear. Eadric shuddered. "Better now?"

"Err..." He blushed a little.

"I'll take that as a yes then." Petra giggled, slipping away from him. "Oh... look at all this blue stuff. I could addle myself!"

"Addling hurts." I sighed. "You remember the books the First Enchanter made us all read about the darkspawn when they were first sighted near Ostagar? They're horrid little bastards. I really thought I was permanently addled at one point."

"Was that in the deep roads?" Leliana tilted her head inquisitively. "When you, I quote 'had to heal every sodder because everyone runs into battle with no regard for the healer' no?"

"Aye - the deep roads." All three of us who'd actually been in those Blighted tunnels shuddered. "I drank my weight in lyrium, I swear it."

"You double swear it?" Liana smiled, a little giggle stuck in her throat. I want to know how someone who uses such devastating magic remains so... _girly_.

"Double swear it lass." I grinned. A little levity never hurt.

"You are positive?" Her eyebrow arched at me.

"Aye." I nodded.

"Posi-wositive?" A smirk pulled at her lips.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Flora groaned. "Maker's breath - I swear I'm surrounded by toddlers!"

"Are you _posi-wositive_?" Shiloh snarked.

"Argh!"

* * *

We back tracked up through the store-rooms with my satchel full to bursting with lyrium vials in ranging strengths, Eadric, Petra, Flora and Liana with them in their belt pouches and pockets. I feel like a demon is directly above us and a chill shivered down my spine.

"You felt that too?" Petra pursed her lips. "I don't like it."

"It's nearly as strong as a Pride Demon." Eadric commented. "Sloth?"

"Ich hoffe nicht." Liana groaned. "I do not like Rage Demons let alone Hunger, Desire, Sloth, Despair or Pride. It's fairly difficult to combat them all."

"Only one way to find out." Flora sauntered over to the next spiraling staircase to continue up the tower, leaning on the door frame with that impish smile on her tattooed face.

"Onwards then." I sighed. I do not like demons. I will never like demons.

"These demons. Do they plague you constantly?" Leliana asked as we walked the stairs.

"Not so much. Just when we're at our weakest or in a particularly thinned part of the Veil. I suppose it could be _why_ most Ponderous Mages get made Tranquil if they retreat into their minds. We're more vulnerable when like that." I can feel the frown behind me. Is it weird that I know Shiloh is frowning. "But I'm not Tranquil. So I'll survive. I have to."

"You better." Said the voice under the helmet.

* * *

"Oh... guests." Not a Sloth Demon. A Sloth Abomination. Twice as powerful. Maker's whiskey breath. "I would entertain you - but I can't be bothered." His voice drawled slowly and I was filled with the feeling of being doused in pure sleep. Like being hexed with... Waking Nightmare! Oh shit - the Sloth Abomination used to be an Entrophist! Those robes are brown that it's wearing... oh shit. Sloth mixed with an Entrophist.

"You'll just have to taste Holly then won't you?" Shiloh went to grab her greatsword but then faltered - falling face first into the ground... which is covered in blood. Human and elven blood - the thrum of life still pulsing slightly - magical blood... because it's attached to bulbous sacks of flesh that twist and throb near the Sloth Abomination. It's mages... used as a sickly energy source. I can't even comprehend how disgusting it is.

So it's also drawing power from these. Such a strong form of Sloth. I've never felt so fucking tired. I don't know how long I can stay awake. I need to think of things. Stay awake.

"I'm not laying down on that filthy floor. I can't quite imagine what-" Flora was cut off from her tirade and dropped.

"You will not... have me." Leliana slumped to her feet, her hands clamped over her ears. I wish it were that easy. Even now I feel my own willpower slipping against this Abomination. "I will not submit to you."

"You're going to-" Petra's eyes fluttered closed and she fell sideways into Eadric.

"You fucking bast-" Eadric then slumped.

"Ich bin meine eigene person Greuel!" Liana shouted, the Veil shifted slightly and a Spirit Bolt thundered into the Sloth Abomination. It blinked at her with sleepy eyes as she prepared to attack again and she wobbled on the spot before collapsing on the spot without a further sound.

"Think you'll win?" I growled, unsheathing my katana. I'm the only one still standing. I'm going to die. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a twitching form in pale blue robes. I know him... Sloth is drawing power from him too! "You've made a powerful enemy!"

"I think not mage." His voice dripped through cotton stuffing in my ears and I felt the stone of the floor and the blood coming closer to me... oh shit.

* * *

Oh - I hurt so much! My limbs feel wrenched out of their sockets. My skin feels like it was scrubbed with a wire brush. Maker's teeth. I open my eyes and feel for my staff. Somehow we must have defeated Sloth... maybe the others woke up and I've been roughly healed?

"Oh dearie me laddie. You got quite the bump on your noggin." I turned to the voice. Mama... "Now don't look at me like that - your Pa will be here any moment. I've chastised him for taking you out on that stupid hunt." Her head shook slowly. "Stupid man."

"Mama?" My voice is so high! How old am I? I don't like this... the more I go into the Fade the more I regret it. "You're not alive." Not going to get used to the sound of that. I want to sound like an adult again... let's see. When it comes to how you perceive yourself in the Fade you just have to think... "What are you doing here?" That didn't work. The fuck?

"That's a bad one." Her shook her head, her wavy brown hair curling under her chin. "I'm going to kill your Pa for taking you... He can't be so rough with you."

Maybe... was everything I thought of as my life a elaborate dream? Who would dream such things... being a mage. The things that happened to me. Darkspawn. No - no child imagines those things. I glanced over at my mother - something is off about her - her nose looks too straight, her eyes too green. "You're not my mother."

"William Gareth Amell. You will not speak to me like that!" Now I know she's not my mother. I know for a fact that both my parents called me Billy and I as much as I don't like my name being shortened... this is odd. I'm in the Fade. Did her eyes just glow red?

"I can speak to you however I like. You're not my mother." I rolled my eyes. "You're a demon."

"Foolish mage. I sought to give you what you wanted, you were the best option for me to have. Now your companions will suffer. Just you watch!" Shit... where in Thedas are they actually? I grasped for the static in the Fade-air and discharged it at the demon parading as my mother.

It writhed a moment before it's true form revealed itself a demon of Desire. Oh fuck's sake. The Sloth Abomination is using other demons to keep us here. The Desire Demon smirked and raked it's purple claws up it's nearly naked body. Not a nice image - a few moments ago you pretended to be my mother. I intensified the lightning until it groaned in pain and slipped away into the ether of the Fade.

I don't feel any more demons... and not more heartbeats other than my own. Where is everyone? I felt almost drawn towards the door though...

I opened the heavy oaken door and stared out at shifting planes of the Fade, runic markings hovering over them. Shit... inter-Fade plane scattering. I've only ever read about this before. I took a deep breath of the Fade-air and fell forwards, willing myself at the nearest plane.

* * *

I'm still a child. I swear I can't be older than five. Oh - and I have no staff or my katana - it's a good thing I've had enough lyrium over these past months to give me enough resistance against hostile magic to cast without thinking through my hands. I'm in the tower though - beige sandstone... and weeping.

"Who's there?" Came a strangled sob. I ran toward it - damned shorter legs. I don't like being a child. I like being me. Why can't I stop being this 'age' in appearance? The sobbing was coming from a huddled woman in the corner of the dormitory, her knees drawn up to her face , blonde hair falling out of it's usual messy bun over a pinked from crying face.

"Petra?" I hate - hate hate hate - being five. I sound like a high pitched me with a stronger accent and Petra stares at me a few moments before straightening up out of the ball she was crying in.

"William? That can't be you." Well - she recognizes me at least.

"Petra - we're in the Fade. Are you-" I lost all capabilities of speech a moment as I notice it... her stomach. Distended into a bump, her pale hands cradling it. "Are you pregnant?"

"They're going to take him... they'll take Eadric away from me. They'll take my baby. Help me hide - please!" She faltered a bit as she stood straighter. "I'm talking to a child... I've gone mad."

"Snap out of it Petra! We've been trapped by a demon of Sloth - none of this is real!" She glares at me a moment and I realize the lie in my words. They would take Eadric and her child away from her if this was real. "Right now - you're in Eadric's arms on the bloody floor of the main atrium of the tower. The Sloth demon used to be an Entrophist. It used Waking Nightmare!" No demon was needed to keep her here though. Some demons are found within or from life. Philosophical that.

"I... I..." She furrowed her blonde brows. "I believe you."

"Come on Petra - we need to get out of here." I grasp her hand... how come she gets to be tall? I don't like being a child. I really don't.

I nearly trip up on my tartans... because for some reason I'm in them as we reach a glowing door. Petra opens it for me and she stares a moment at the shifting nebulous Fade. "Inter-Fade planes... fuck. Sorry... young ears."

"I'm not five you know. I just look it."

"And sound it." She smiles a little, her face still tear stained. "Let's get moving then - I can't feel anyone else here." And we fall forward in tandem, hands clasped as we fall toward the nearest plane of the Fade. I wonder who the next one will be?


	26. (Musicalrain) The Haunted Places

Author Note: Shiloh's taking over some of the Circle! Hehe. Special thanks to Hatsepsut for taking the time to read and review every single one of our chapters! :D

I've done more William and Shiloh artwork too people! I think it turned out even better than the last one. Here's the link (they're cuddling :3 ):

( musicalrain0 . deviant art ( ) art / William-Amell-and-Shiloh-Tabris-Cuddle- 386275628 )

Same deal as last time – just remove all the spaces and all the parentheses and the link should work! :)

P.S. You all were wondering what Liana (the Nevarran blood mage and Spiritualist) looked like, right? Well! I've painted her too (I keep doing digital paintings, I swear):

( musicalrain0 . deviant art ( ) art / Liana-the-Mage- 386478764 )

And! - All you authors out there that want help with your fanfiction writing or more reviews/recognition for your stories check out: ( theauthorexchange . freeforums ( ) index . Php )

Content warnings for sexual situations, allusions to non-consensual adult situations, and descriptive gore.

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

I move my hand tiredly over my face. Ugh. I'm exhausted. I blink my eyes open, and it takes a few moments for my sight to focus... and I see a dimly lit fireplace and... shelves of books? I'm... in a library. How did I get into a library? I don't remember being in one...

My eyes settle on the low table beside the overstuffed chair I fell asleep in. Oh – that's right. I had wanted to read that book – Soris'. He's finally published. I reach my hand out, and my eyes settle on the silver band set with a small emerald on my... finger. Married. When – William. Yes. I smile to myself, as I picture the Chantry wedding in my mind's eye. We had a simple wedding. Everyone was there. We've been married for... ten years now. That's right. I remember. Why am I having trouble remembering?

I move the book to my lap, and I see... I'm pregnant? Oh – the pregnancy must be messing with my memory. Yes. That makes since. Didn't I hear something about that before? I smooth my ring adorned hand down my very rounded stomach. My smile widens. I'm due soon. Three... yes, three months more. Our child. He'll be born a shem, but that doesn't matter in the slightest. I love him already and he's not even here. My eyes water at my thoughts. I love his father too. So... so much. Where is William? Is he home?

I stand with a little effort and my gaze flutters to the window. Oh. It's quite dark. How long have I been asleep? Does he even know I'm home? That is, if he is home himself. I put the book back on the table and snatch my over-sized scarf from the back of the chair and wrap it around my shoulders (it's a little chilly despite the fire). I'll read that later then. I want to find William. My... husband. I smile again. That's a good feeling. Warm... perfect.

I push open the tall door to the library, and turn down the left most hall of our small, but spacious, home. Being a Warden Commander has its perks – we can afford this house, and we're not stuck in the alienage for it... for me being an elf.

I turn the brass handle on the warm oak door of our master bedroom, and push the door open slowly, as William may be asleep, and when it's open enough for me to enter I look around... only to completely freeze at what's revealed to me. How... how did I not _hear _this?

That son of a fucking bitch! How could he do this to me?! To _us_! Fucking shem! They're all the same. I snarl and step forward. William's naked, his long dark hair matted to his body with sweat, and he's grunting and groaning in effort and pleasure both. Thin, dark legs with distinctive swirling tattoos scattered on the skin are wrapped around his hips tightly. I know who that is... _Flora_. That sodding bitch! I'll gut her!

"What are you doing?!" I snap. I know what they're doing – they're fucking. I'm not an idiot. I want to know why though. Why would William fuck another while his pregnant wife is in the house – sleeping in the library? Why would he do this? I thought he was good – a different shem. Maybe he's just wanted her all along. Maybe it's always been about her. He loved her, didn't he? He loved her first. Maybe he just always did.

His head snaps up towards me at my words with his face partly hidden by his long hair. His hips still move against that bitch as he looks at me with a glower. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He growls and lifts a lightning-tinged hand towards me, only to turn it to run against the exposed breast of the bitch – the whore. She gasps and moans loudly. Her chest rises to push against his hand, and William turns back towards me with a cruel smile. "I don't think you're needed. You can leave. You're nothing."

I stagger as though his harshly spoken words have physically slapped me. "But – our baby..." My hands cup my stomach. How could he do this? Why is he still doing this? He hasn't stopped moving, slower yes, but he's still fucking her. The bitch seems oblivious to what's happening too.

"Doesn't matter," he snaps. "You don't matter."

Tears well in my eyes. I want to curse him. I want to scream – but I don't. I-I can't. Maybe once, but not now... Not with the little life growing in me. I don't want him to get hurt. I don't want his father to hurt him. And William can. I know he can – he could. He's a mage. It wouldn't take him much to turn that lightning from its use in pleasure to pain. At me. At us. Would he? Would he hurt me? He-he already has. He can.

I turn on my heel and storm out the door. Blind for the tears in my eyes, and a sob looses from my throat. I stumble into something on my run, and fall to the ground. I harshly rub at my eyes to clear my vision and I see... dear Maker. Is that... is that our son?

The small child picks himself off the floor with the help of a strawberry-blonde haired shem woman. She looks familiar. His... nanny? The child meets my eyes and I gasp. He looks... so much like William. I can't help myself, I lunge forward and hug him to my rounded form. I cry into his shaggy hair and hold onto him shakily.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against his shoulder. "But we have to leave, son. Y-your father... He... We just have to go. We'll go to grandpapa's, okay?"

I pull back and look at him as I wipe my eyes with one hand and settle it on my stomach. "Your brother wants to go too. It'll be okay." The child... my son looks down at my hand, my stomach and his mouth hangs open. A look of shock passes over his small face, and when he looks back up at me there are tears in his so blue eyes – William's eyes. He has William's eyes.

"Shiloh," he says in a high-pitched voice with a thick Starkhaven accent. We live in Starkhaven then? Yes... that sounds right. "This isn't real."

What... what does he mean? It's too terribly real. But he can't know that. He's just a child. I shake my head. "No... Son, we-we have to go. Your father... he's, he's busy." I cringe.

"There's others here?" He questions and looks up at the blonde woman who tenses. "Shiloh – I'm William."

No... He's named for his father? Yes... that sounds right. But... "Why do you keep calling me Shiloh? I'm your mother, dear. I'm mamae." I try to smile, but I feel it faltering. "We have to go, alright? Your nanny can come too." If we're in Starkhaven, then we can't go to Adda's. There's... we'll go somewhere, but we _have _to leave.

He shakes his head. "No – we're in the Fade. We're still in the tower. This isn't real Shiloh. This place..." His eyes look briefly at my stomach. "It's all an illusion. Try to remember, love."

I feel myself blinking at him dumbly. That's... why is my son talking to me like that? The Fade? Illusion? We're... not in a tower. We're at home. We're in Starkhaven. "No. Son-" Why can't I finish my thought? An image is dragged to the forefront of my mind – Holly coated in stone... stone chunks of a-a demon. There's... Wait. There was blood... and one of those creatures. An... abomination. I was tired! This... what happened?

"We-we were," I stutter. "I... remember the blood... The abomination." I look into the child's blue eyes with rapt attention. "How is this not real? Who are you?"

"The mage the demon inhabited was an Entrophist. We're in a Waking Nightmare. A spell that sent us to the Fade. This place is riddled with demons." The child takes a deep breath. "I'm William. I'm just a five-year-old version of me here. It's an illusion, lass."

My mouth opens and closes as I process that information. Could it be? Is this... Yes. I know. There was no wedding. This-this isn't real. "I believe you," I whisper. "William." I can't help myself when I wrap my arms tightly around the child-illusion of William again. I'm still seated on the floor, so I'm able to hug him easily.

"What's this?" An older, deeper voice of William asks from behind us. The blonde woman... Petra gasps and a shimmering shield of magic appears around the three of us as a torrent of flame gushes against it. I release William and swivel on the floor to see a very, very naked adult version of William standing beside a naked Flora. I can't help but just look on. This is an illusion. This is an illusion Shiloh. It's not real.

The child form of William steps around me and snarls, "Demons!" William shoots lightning at their naked bodies and as it bounces between the two, they cry out and their skin tears until it can't any more. 'William' seems to catch flame and he takes the form of one of those flaming, molten demons. I think they're called Rage. 'Flora' cackles as her form melts into a purple feminine demon... Desire. Fuck. This is definitely not real. And I don't have a weapon. Maker's shit.

My eyes bounce around the room frantically as I search for something – anything. I need a sodding weapon. I look up at the mantle to see... a mounted, antiqued Holly. Fuck yes. I struggle to stand and hurriedly rush to her as more lightning and stone is hurled at the demons. If this is an illusion, then why am I still pregnant? Ugh. I pull 'Holly' down. She feels real. This is so strange.

I turn back around at a scream, and see what must be a crushing prison squeeze the Desire demon until she bleeds from every pore and vanishes into nothingness. The rage demon is frozen, and the child William is panting heavily. I dash forward as fast as I can, and as I'm the only one with a weapon of any kind, I push the age-dulled Holly with all my strength against the Rage demon. You're not William. Fucker.

He shatters just as a shield is raised around me. Good. I'm so not wearing armor, and that would've hurt. I turn around to see Petra shaking her hands in the air and her face pinched in pain. She's... pregnant too in this nightmare. I shake my head. This is all so strange.

"What do we do?" I ask the mages. "How do we get out of this nightmare?"

"We have to find the others," William says. His voice sounds so... cute. I bite my lip in an effort not to smirk. "We must release them from their illusions. And then we have to look for Sloth. The demon must die for us to be released from the spell."

"And we're stronger together," I nod. "Then how do we find the others?"

"Inter-Fade plane traveling," Petra answers. "I wonder if it'll work for you, since you're – you know. Not a mage?"

I snort, "We'll just have to find out."

The blonde looks quickly between myself and the smaller William (it is _so _strange being taller than him) and smiles, "Are you two together? Like... romantically? I had thought, but I wasn't sure... Not until now with the," she vaguely gestures at my middle.

I think I may be blushing, and the child form of William answers with a high-pitched, "Yes, we are Petra." He takes my hand and I look down at him... oh I don't know what to make of all this.

"Lucky girl," Petra winks at me. But... here's William, but I had just saw the not-William... I exhale slowly. I'll think on that more later.

"William," I say and he looks up at me with large, round eyes. Oh he is _so cute_. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... this is really strange."

"Aye," he answers. "Let's go to the next plane."

I pick the antiqued-Holly up and place the flat of her blade on my shoulder, due to a lack of harness and scabbard, and I exit the door with William holding both my hand and Petra's. Everything looks so fuzzy... and twisted. The sod is this?

"The Fade," William answers me. Oh – said that aloud then. "We fall forward and will ourselves to the next plane." Whatever the sod that means. Shit – we're falling. Did we just fall into... nothing? What the fuck?

* * *

Next thing I know we're standing on solid ground somewhere... dark. And I notice I'm grasping William's small hand near-painfully. I release it quickly and mumble a quick apology. I still don't know what to think about this place... Do mages deal with this shit all the time?

"Where are we?" I whisper. Not wanting any demons attacking us before we're ready now.

William lights flame in his hand, and my more attuned vision takes in the damp, cracked walls, the mold and sludge clinging to the stone work, and the symbol of the Chantry emblazoned on the nearby wall. "The dungeons," William breathes. "Under the Circle."

"I feel a heartbeat," Petra points in front of her. "That way."

I hold the antiqued-Holly with both hands (fucking glad I've got her), and run despite my stomach to follow Petra with William behind me. He curses at being in a child's body, but we stay close to him for the light of his flame and to not separate from each other. We start coming across empty hay-strewn cells with rusty iron bars and glowing rune-stones secured at their tops.

"So we can't use magic while locked in," William clarifies. The templars are just sweethearts, aren't they? Lock up mages with no way to protect themselves and make them sleep in molded, rotting hay. So thoughtful. No wonder those abuses happen. They cow the mages to their whims just like the shem nobles do to the elves. Oppression everywhere. It's nice.

I'm taken out of my musings when my sensitive hearing picks up the muffled sounds of hits and muted screams. I stop running and put a hand up in silent signal. The other two stop as well and look to me questioningly. "There's a scuffle ahead," my ears twitch ever so slightly. "Someone's loosing. Badly."

"Or someone's being beaten," William says tersely. "Let's kill these demons."

We start off at a run again, and William extinguishes his flames once we come to an area with lit torches lining the walls. We stop in our tracks to see... that amusing blood mage shem, Liana, stripped bare, not a single article of clothing on her, and in a ball on the filthy floor being punched and kicked by three armored 'templars' – or demons. Sodding shit.

"Bastards!" William yells in his child voice, before tearing a chunk of ceiling out and dropping it on the closest templar. Petra erects a shield around Liana, and I run forward, rage tearing at my senses, and push the dulled-Holly with greater strength at the next templar. My hit glances off of his shoulder due to the dullness of the blade despite the effort I put into the blow, so I turn Holly about and step in as close as I can with my stomach and bash her pommel _hard _in the side of his chain-covered neck. The templar snarls and I see a flash of red from behind his helm. His gauntleted hand shoots out and connects to my cheek with a _snap_. I stagger as black dots dance behind the red-webbing in my vision. Fucker!

"Try to hurt me!" I challenge. I bring Holly up – her flat aimed at his bucket-head again and swing as though she weighs nothing. I connect with the demon-templar's helm and he in turn staggers and drops to a knee. His body is suddenly covered in ice, and flames erupt from the spaces in his armor as he takes his true, terrible form. Which is a sodding mistake. Without the armor to hinder me, I turn Holly and bring her down on the demon's head. She strikes true, and his body is turned to crumbling, cooling stone as a result.

I drop Holly as I turn towards Liana. She... she looks like Shianni. She's shivering, bloodied and bruised, curled in a tight ball and whimpering slightly. I hurry over to her and drop to my knees. I place a hand gently on her shoulder, as William and Petra both come over and heal her quickly. She's still not responding after she's healed, curled tight onto herself and blind to the world. I bend over her and whisper in her ear calmly,

"They're gone. You're safe Liana. They can't hurt you."

She turns her head and blinks teary red eyes at me, the steel-grey of them even more pronounced. "They're dead," I specify.

"Y-y-you're..."

I nod. "I'm Shiloh – the Warden Commander."

"Y-you're really here?" she asks as a fine shiver settles over her body.

I nod and repeat the words I said to my cousin so long ago, "Yeah I'm here."

"We're in the Fade," Petra interjects and Liana moves to look at the other mage, her light brown hair out of its tail and obscuring her vision. "We're being held by the sloth abomination in a Waking Nightmare."

"We're trapped," William continues. "We have to find the others and kill Sloth."

Liana blinks rapidly at William. "Oh sweet kittens, I'm naked in front of a child."

"I'm not a child," William huffs. "This is just a projection of me at five – I'm William."

"William?" She hiccups. "Die Welt ist grausam."

I untie the scarf I remember securing around my shoulders and lay it on my lap before lifting my oversized tunic over my head. I see no clothes for the shem anywhere, and she can't very well walk around naked. A tunic made for a pregnant elven woman and a scarf will have to do. I'm fine in a breastband and hose. Really. I hand it to her, and she quickly puts the tunic against her chest as she sits up.

"Are you sure?"

I nod, "You need something to wear."

"Are you certain you're sure?"

I sigh, "Put on the flaming tunic, and we'll make a skirt out of the scarf. I've seen it done before."

She asks William to turn away, understandable that, and I help her tie the scarf into a skirt after she puts on the tunic. She smiles shakily at me when we're done. Petra offers her use of her stockings, as the woman is only in her Circle robes, but the blood mage declines.

"I thought the templars found out I used blood magic," she whispers as she moves to stand while rubbing dried blood from her face. "They were going to kill me... after... after..."

I place a hand on her arm to stop her. How is it that this shem woman mollifies my behavior so much? Is it due to her innocence, or maybe because she reminds me so much of Shianni... and William. Both of them. She also reminds me of that stray dog I took in, as odd as that is. She's just so pitiful and childlike – you can't _not_ want to help her. Even when she uses blood magic. "You're really afraid of the templars?" I ask her.

She nods her head rapidly, "They're so mean! And they make fun of me, call me names, and... and..." She looks at the ground. "They've done worse than what you've seen here. Maker's quilted blankets – I wish I was back in Nevarra."

I can't help it – I hug the pitiful shem woman. She hugs back, clinging to me as if to make sure I'm real. I make a sudden decision and pull back some to look up at her. "I can get you out of the sodding Circle, Liana." Her eyes widen and she looks at me shocked. I'd do this for any of the mages – all of them – but I know I can't. The fucking templars would never allow me. "I'm Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens," I start and pull back completely. "We have the Right of Conscription – I can take you in as a Grey Warden recruit. Only if you want." I take a breath, "We fight the darkspawn, and it's very sodding dangerous. There's a Blight, but I can tell with the blood magic you're at more risk for... this." I gesture vaguely to the surroundings. "Only if you want though. I won't make you a Warden if you don't want to be. You'd be a Warden for life, and it's not easy. There are... side-effects to becoming one of us. They're not pleasant. You could die." I'm not being specific, I know, but they're Warden secrets. As fucked up as that is.

"Y-you'd let me be a Warden?" She stutters, and then I'm on the receiving end of a hug. "Thank you! You're so amazing!" She starts bouncing on her toes. "I'd love to be a Warden! I know it'd be tough to fight those icky darkspawn, but I'd be free!" She giggles and pulls back still bouncing on her toes, "I'd be as free as a bird! As a robin or a teeny little sparrow warrow." She grins and clasps her hands, with all traces of what she was just suffering in the nightmare gone, "I can't wait to be a Grey Warden! Warden Liana! It sounds good, doesn't it? Really, really good!"

I feel a smile pulling at my lips despite myself. "You'd be Warden Recruit Liana until we can make you a full-fledged Warden," how ever the sod all we do that. We'll figure that out later.

"Shiloh, lass," I hear the high-pitched voice of William say to the right of me, and I turn to look at him. "Are you sure you can do this?" I nod and he smiles, "As great as that is – we still have to find the others." Ah, yes. We're still in this Fade crap. How could I forget? Let's see whose nightmare we fall into next.

* * *

Dungeons. It seems the demons like dungeons, which makes sense evil favors evil. None of us recognize these dungeons, but for some reason the stonework nags at the back of my mind as something familiar. Its color maybe. Or the texture of it.

We come across a shield with a stamped heraldry mounted on the wall in the dank hall we're walking, and I curse aloud as I stop in my tracks gazing upon it, "Sodding mabari shit!" I can feel the others' eyes on me as my hands clench and unclench in my silent budding rage.

"What is it Shiloh?" William asks me.

My eyes flutter to the two other women of our party and look at the child-illusion of William. "We're at the Arl of Denerim's estate."

"How do you know that?" Petra asks.

I sigh. Oh William, you remember that nobleson I said I murdered, right? "I was here before," my jaw tightens. I wasn't in the dungeons exactly, in the estate though, yes.

"Was this the noble that..." William trails off and I nod. The others don't need to know, but William knows. That's all that matters.

"C'mon," I turn away from the shield. "Let's find out whose nightmare this is." Because it certainly isn't mine. Already had the pleasure of being in one.

We open a large door and stumble upon cramped cells with varying amounts of filth in them. The two Spirit Healers say they feel a heartbeat nearby, and we run towards it at the ready. There's... The Orlesian in ragged clothing and the dirt of living in filth and without a proper wash in days caked on her body. She appears to be unconscious.

"I'll heal her," Petra announces. "Save your mana, William. We don't need you hurting yourself," she says with a smirk.

"I only _look _five!" he exclaims. It seems he's going to be saying that a lot while we're here.

My sensitive hearing picks up the sounds of something further down this hall of cells, and I say softly, "Someone else is here." I turn in the direction of the slight rustling sound. "I'll check it out."

"I'll come with lass," William announces and starts to trail after me as I move slowly away.

"I'll keep a look out!" Liana announces cheerily with her hands circled around her eyes like spectacles. I just blink at her as I pass. Although I find her overwhelming cheerfulness amusing, it seems a little misplaced here in the Fade. In these nightmares.

We walk down the hall a ways, and come across the cell where the rustling sound is emanating from to see...

"Mamae?" I question with a gasp. Why is she here – in the Orlesian's nightmare? That's not her! It's an illusion, right?

It looks... just like her though. An older elven woman with dark golden-brown hair, golden disks for eyes, and the darker complexion and fuller body-type typical of those purely of Rivaini decent. Maker... she even has the same silly tiny plaits strewn about her straight hair.

"Shiloh?" She breathes and stands on shaky legs. "What are you doing here my girl?"

Holy fuck – it even sounds just like her! I push down the memories this is dredging and focus on the here and now. "You're not my mother!" Anger – that's good focus on that. "Mamae has been dead for years!"

"Of course I'm your mother," she replies with furrowed brows. "I'm Adaia. Adaia Tabris."

"You're a demon!" William snaps from beside me. Shit – I had almost forgotten that he was with me. As short as he is as a child. "Show your true form and face us!"

"Silly mortal," 'she' replies in a lower more sultry voice. "Your kind can never stay content. Never sated." Purple flashes in 'her' eyes before the form that was my mother melts off the demon to pool at her feet in a grey sludge – a Desire demon.

William looses electricity immediately at her and in response, the demon's body sparkles slightly before she's outside the cell's bars and standing before us. I quickly pull the antiqued-Holly from where I've rested her, and bring her around to hit the demon... and miss. Shit on a mabari this bitch is fast!

"I'm coming!" I hear the distinctive accented voice of Liana shout as her footsteps sound ever closer. A white, yet iridescent, bolt of light flashes over William and slams into the demon causing it to scream out in agony. I take advantage of the demon's pain as I allow the anger and fury I feel at the demon playing as my mother to fuel my strength. I cut deep into the demon's arm, despite the dulled state of my blade, as I feel the hum of the raging adrenaline pulse familiarly and gleefully throughout my body. Another bolt of energy from the blood mage slams into the demon's purple flesh, and William shoots a torrent of flame at her wavering form. The flame dies down and the demon falls to her hands and knees, scorched but alive. I swing Holly with a twist of my hips and remove the demon's ruined head from her body. That was as fun as a tag-team pit match – not.

"I think that was the only foul creature around here," Liana says as she spins on her heels in a small circle before looking back at me and William. "I don't see or feel any more of those beastly things."

"I don't feel anything either," William agrees.

"Good," I nod, a little shaken at seeing Mamae again in a way, and place Holly on my shoulder. "How's the Or-Leliana?"

"The woman with the pretty rosy hair that likes that bow of hers? Petra healed her, and is waiting for her to wake up."

"I may be able to help with that," William says and turns to walk away – the two of us following after his small form.

William jolts the sleeping Orlesian with a small bit of the electricity from his lightning spell, and she wakes with a start. It takes her a moment to stop quivering as her eyes jump from each of us in turn. "Dear Maker – wh-what's going on here?"

"We're in the Fade," Petra answers as she's still next to the archer's prone form. "Do you remember a Solth abomination? He used Waking Nightmare on us in the tower – sending us here."

"It's an illusion," I supply and step forward. Leliana's eyes are focused on my distended stomach. I point at it and say, "I'm not really pregnant."

"And I'm not really a child," William says too. The Orlesian scurries to her feet quickly and looks down at him with confusion obvious on her face, and he clarifies. "I'm William – this is a projection of me from my own Waking Nightmare."

"Andraste preserve us," she whispers and rubs at her brow. "How do I know this is real? Am I dreaming?"

"Aye, in a way you are," William answers. "But this isn't real – this is a nightmare created by the demon. Do you remember being at the Circle lass?"

"I-I..." She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and pinches her forearm. She yelps – obviously that would've hurt. You're you and everything else is an illusion. "Doux Andraste... We're really in the Fade?" She gets four nods and grunts in acknowledgement. "Then how do we escape this place?"

"We find the others and kill the Sloth demon," William says yet again, but this time to the Orlesian. We all leave the dungeons in a hurry.

* * *

We fall through the ether of the Fade (sodding weird that is) and we're in a field... a corn field. Who has a sodding nightmare in a corn field?

"Mamae!" We hear a child wail in the distance, and we all take off at a run – mindful of William's shorter legs and the rounded stomachs of myself and Petra. We stop as we near, and see an elven boy of no more than ten years old held harshly by two sodding 'templars' – one on each of his arms. An elven woman with the same brown hair as the boy comes running out of the nearby farmhouse.

"What are you doing to my son?!" They're all demons – playing him for a fool. Messing with his mind. I hate demons.

"Eadric," Petra gasps from somewhere to my left. Oh shit... The strawberry-blonde mage steps forward, "Release him demons!" She conjures a crushing prison spell over one of the 'templars' and it laughs manically. Its form ripples and shifts... and it turns into a brown creature looking like the bastard child of a snail and an undead corpse.

"Hunger demon!" Liana squeals. "Oh I don't like those very much. They're one of the more creepy ones. Creeeepy!"

She brings her hands close together and creates a bolt of shimmering spirit energy regardless, and expels it on the demon. I ready myself with the antiqued-Holly firmly in my grasp, as I stand near the Orlesian with the intention of protecting her. My dulled blade isn't the most useful thing, and the shem is unarmed. I don't know what would happen were one of us to die in the Fade, but I'm not eager to find out. Better to leave this one to the mages.

Lightning, flame, earth, ice, spirit energy, crushing prisons, and some healing magic later – and the three demons (Hunger, Rage, and Desire) are all dead. Good riddance.

"Eadric!" Petra shouts and runs over to the quivering young form of her elven lover. Which... they're the first elf and shem that I've seen have an actual relationship, other than myself and William. They... they're good people. Strong. I would hate to see something happen to either of them. We all watch as we drawn near, and see Petra wrap her arms around the young elf and hold him close. She whispers to him, and I hear a word here and there that sounds like she's explaining our presence in the Fade. The mages seem to be quicker to take to this truth, as the elven mage pulls back and shouts,

"I _knew _it!" He takes a moment to look at each of us in turn as we stand just behind Petra. "Shit – William? You're small too?"

William grumbles and mumbles a quick, "Aye," before crossing his arms in annoyance of the state the two men find themselves in. I'm a _little _amused at the sight – both men in our group are children in this sodding place. And they're even about the same size, despite the obvious difference in age of their projections – William being the tall shem he is and Eadric an average, if a little smaller, elf.

"Let's just find Flora, shall we?" William asks as he turns towards where the edge of this plane of the Fade should be, and I feel my face drop. "She's the last one left in this fucking place – then we can find Sloth." Did he sound worried about her? _He loved her first_, a cynical voice repeats my earlier thought. I swallow audibly. _William's a different shem_ – I repeat it in my head like a mantra. He said we were together – he's said he loves me... Then why can't I accept that? The Orlesian beside me gives me a sympathetic smile, as if reading my thoughts, and we trail off after William.

"Petra?" I hear the child-voice of Eadric say from somewhere behind us. "Why do you look pregnant?"

"I-I'll tell you about it later, love," I hear her reply. I would assume the reason behind it was just as pleasant as my own nightmare experience – to give us something unattainable only to use it against us. As William had said, all children born of mages are taken after birth. Which, I repeat my earlier thought on that, those sodding templar bastards just go too far.

* * *

We're... on a beach. "We're in Rivain," I announce to the group. I've never been, but I've heard it described so much so often from so many different people – I'd have to be daft to not recognize the beaches of the northern country. There's the telltale fruit trees, shacks of various make and quality, the occasional trash and debris, tanned fine sand, aquamarine blue water, and even ships of Rivaini make in the distance offshore.

"Flora's originally from Rivain and was transferred," Petra mumbles.

We walk the edge of the beach for some time, all the while Liana kicks a shell and giggles, Eadric complains of being stuck in the Fade as a child with William's sympathies, the Orlesian's oddly quiet, and otherwise we're all on edge. Shouldn't we have come across that bitch by now?

"No! Help!" we hear the distressed shouting in the distance – _finally_.

We take off at a run, difficult due to the sand and our various situations, but we come across the source of the shouting to see an older elven Rivaini woman curled on the sandy beach with her arms wrapped around herself in fear – fear of the teenage less tattooed form of Flora standing in front of her. Who's the demon here?

"Shut up fool!" Flora shouts in return, "Are you trying to attract trouble?!"

"Flora!" William calls, much to my dismay. The other elven woman turns to regard us. She doesn't even seem surprised to see us all there – and with how different we all look.

"Good," she says with an upturn of her lips. "This... _woman_," she snarls. "Is holding me here, yet denies it and plays the part of a victim. If she keeps this up, she'll attract more demons!"

"I'm not a demon!" The woman cries out, "Don't hurt me mage!"

"Shut up!" Flora snaps again, "Release me, or I'll make you wish you had never imprisoned me!"

"Let's just kill the sodding demon," I step forward. "We don't need to reason with it."

The 'woman' cackles, "Vermin! You will all burn by my might!" The demon playing as who must have been Flora's mother catches flame as 'her' form shifts into that of a Rage demon, and more of those Hunger demons rise from the now rippling, blackened sand. Shit.

I take up a place by the Orlesian, due to her lack of weapons and, well, no one's dying while I can help it. Eadric forms a healing aura as William and Liana start the offensive attacks – lightning and spirit bolts. Flora quickly erects a shield around her person, and dashes away from the Rage demon as it claws at her.

As I'm watching the scene before me, I fail to notice the Hunger demon rise from the sand behind me, until the Orlesian pushes me away. Ugh. The Hunger demon sodding claws deeply into her shoulder, and she screams out in pain – she isn't hurting for long, as with four Spirit Healers she's healed quickly. I yell out in my ever-present rage and swing the dulled edge of my blade into the glowing, elongated face of the demon with a sharp _crack_. Fucking arsehole. It staggers backwards with black ichor of its blood dripping in torrents onto the sand. Someone rights a shield of shimmering energy around we melee fighters, and a crushing prison squeezes more of the ichor from the demon as it wails before it fades into oblivion in death. I move as quickly as I can to the next Hunger demon making to attack us. I cut downwards into its shoulder, dislocating it and breaking a bit through its 'flesh'. William comes running towards me and tells me to duck out of the way in his high-pitched voice (it's still a bit cute). I do so, to see him loose a huge fireball at the sodding creature. The demon slumps and dissipates back into the sand. The battle finally ends as the fucking Rage demon goes down from a combination of spirit and arcane spells. Sorta wish the Orlesian had some sort of weapon, and this 'Holly' wasn't in such poor shape. It would be nice.

"Let's get out of here," Flora pants as she walks towards us. "Let's face the demon behind this, and be done!" I'm reluctantly inclined to agree with the sodding bitch.

* * *

"Why do you insist on resisting?" The Sloth abomination drawls lazily. It took a sodding long time of falling through... _nothing _to find where this arse-faced creature was hiding. Afraid of something, are we? "Why are you not content? Rest... and let us not resort to violence. You all must be so tired of fighting. It is troublesome. Tiring. Strenuous... Relax."

"Enough of this trickery demon!" William shouts as forcefully as he can in his small state. "You will not have us! This ends here!"

"Fine..." It hisses. "Violence – as you wish." The demon glows a bright purplish-white color, so bright I have to fucking close my eyes (not a fan of the momentary blindness), and when it subsides I see... a giant fucking ogre. Why do these things shapeshift?! Isn't that a mage thing – like what the witch does?!

I take my standard post here in this Fade shit by the Orlesian as William orders the others, "Eadric – heal! Petra and Flora – arcane! Liana – spirit!"

I can only stand and watch as William directs the 'earth', or whatever the sod all the ground is made of here, to encase the ogre's legs in stone. So very much wish that 'Holly' was sharp and the Orlesian wasn't defenseless. Oh, I'm sure she'd be fine without a blade against a normal foe, but an ogre-demon? Nah. I don't think anyone would, other than a mage. Or five mages.

Liana curses it with that altered spirit bolt that I've quickly come to recognize as a Walking Bomb, just as it beats its hands against the stone encasing it and restricting its movement in an attempt to free itself. A doubly strong crushing prison shimmers around its form, and it starts to bleed a sludge of demonic ichor and darkspawn taint – or what looks like the foetid blood. It's body actually _shatters _in a self-implosion and it takes on its true form – a weird arse version of that snail-corpse. Like those Hunger demons, but more ugly. Definitely more ugly.

"Fools!" It snarls... and a whitish-blue light radiates from its hands. It waves them about, and suddenly... its fucking cold!

"A Blizzard!" Liana wails. Yeah – figured that one out. Shit – I'm so not wearing a tunic. It's getting difficult to see again – ice, icy wind, and snow passing in a whirlwind all around us. A barrier of arcane energy surrounds us in a half-circle, and it does some to repel the spell.

William tries to counteract the demon's seemingly favored ice with a ball of fire, and Liana announces that she's going to try to dispel the storm. Eadric pants heavily as he constantly heals our ever-increasing frostbite, and the others busy themselves with holding the barrier. The storm is getting worse.

"Fucking arsehole! Why won't it die?!" I yell in frustration. I don't very well like the feeling of being... helpless. Self-imposed helplessness (because no-ones dying), but I still don't like it.

William sends another fireball at the creature, just as the storm starts to break some – I guess the blood mage's spell has taken hold. The Arcanists release the barrier with the threat of freezing to death taken care of, and focus on crushing the demon to a pulp. They do so – it explodes as a true result of the Nevarran's spell and collapses in a burning, smoking mess.

I suddenly have the urge to vomit as it feels like the very ground has disappeared from below me, and I'm falling... into what?

* * *

_Onto_ what is what I should've asked. Ugh. It feels like I fell headfirst into the bloody stone floor, although I'm fairly certain I didn't move at sodding all. I blink my eyes open with a groan, and I can hear the groans and hisses of pain from the others. So falling out of the Fade and back into reality was just as pleasant for the others as it was for me, it seems...

"H-help..." My sensitive hearing picks up the chocked whisper coming from somewhere to my left. Oh shit – that does not sound good.

"Someone's hurt!" I shout and get up as quickly as I can with my augmented strength and tolerance to pain – also quicker now that I'm _me _again.

I wobble over towards the sound of the pleading on unsteady legs, and see... a shem as pale as snow, covered in sweat and bleeding from every orifice. Holy sodding Maker's shit! "This guy needs healing – now!"

Those trained in Spirit Healing come ambling over as quick as they can. I hear as William sucks in a harsh breath before three mages start casting with glowing hands in an attempt to heal the poor slob. Wait – three? That bitch isn't over here.

"Niall?" I hear Liana's voice question. "Du siehst nicht sehr gut."

"He's not going to make it," the bitch Flora huffs from behind me. "The demon fed off of him for too long. He's doesn't have enough blood or energy left for healing."

"He can still be saved!" William snaps, and then crouches down beside this 'Niall', and touches a relatively blood-free spot on his forehead to directly feed his healing magic into his body, or so I assume. He closes his eyes in concentration, and I hear him mumble, "you can still be saved," repetitively under his breath.

Niall wheezes a wet bloody breath, the red leaking out the corner of his lips, before moving what appears to be a gore-stained scroll towards William with agonizing effort across his chest. "T-the," he takes a harsh breath, "L-litany... of-f-f..." he sucks in a stuttering breath repeatedly with a quivering lip, "A-adrallaaa..." He looks up at William with bloodied, teary eyes, and he cries bloody tracks down his pale cheeks. I don't think I will ever not get that image out of my mind. "S-save... Cir-rcle."

I can see William battle with his emotions, as he removes his hand from Niall's forehead to take the scroll from the dying man's hand. "I will," he whispers to Niall.

"Th-than-" Niall doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence, as his body goes completely lax and the light fades from his eyes as they roll upwards to stare lifelessly at the room's high ceiling. We're all silent as we look at the newly deceased man.

"Though all before me is shadow," the Orlesian starts to pray from beside us in a soft tone. "Yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost." She takes a deep breath, and oddly no one interrupts her, even the bitch, "Maker have mercy and allow this soul into Your Light, for his sacrifice was noble and will not be in vain. Amen." We're silent for a moment more, before we all solemnly leave the room and continue on to the next – there are many yet to be saved. This shit has to end.

* * *

We find ourselves in the Chapel next – odd that. But... what's more odd are the fucking walking corpses we're currently decimating. And, as William pointed out, that big sodder (an Arcane Horror – what looks like a sodding rotting body of a dead mage reanimated, cause demons are creative) is resurrecting the corpses.

I cut down three corpses with a large horizontal arc of Holly (the real one – thank goodness), and see the next bunch knocked backwards into the wall with a resounding _crack_ with something that nearly looked like a gush of wind. I turn towards where whatever the sod all that was originated, to see an older, greying shem man with a full beard clothed in red robes with white furry trim directing invisible energies at the corpses with thrusts of his staff and hands. What kind of magic is that?

I've not given much time to muse over that, as the Arcane Horror waves one of its overgrown hands towards me, and suddenly I feel an unbearable chill seep through my armor and I hear the _crack _of ice solidifying my pate and chain into a hard shell of metal around my body. I'm fucking _frozen_!

"Argh!" I yell unintelligently as I struggle against the ice holding me still. My entire suit of armor is just _stuck_! I'm fucking going to kill that thing! I yell out again, the rush in my veins pounding so hard I'm deaf to everything other than the rushing in my ears. Flame licks up one side of my body, not to hurt but to melt my icy prison, and I push against my bonds falling forward in the effort once I'm freed.

I push myself up off of the ground quickly, grasp Holly with both hands, and hold her high as I charge the creature. It laughs and shoots a fireball at me during my charge. I barely dodge enough of it to only get singed, or what I think is singed – as I'm quite raging now and only feel a slight burn on my stomach and legs. I'm not thinking on that, as a bolt of spirit energy shoots over my shoulder to slam into the creature just as I connect Holly with one of its long, unprotected arms – and sever it. It's my turn to laugh as it tries to summon its magic one-handed, but can't due to the Nevarran's spells – she had neutralized it. I crouch low and quickly raise myself as I bring Holly's sharp blade diagonally from hip to shoulder across the creature's middle. It falls only to sizzle with its last attempts to cast from one of William's lightning spells. The corpses are finished off easily after that, with no demon to resurrect them.

"Enchanter Karl?" Eadric questions the red-clothed shem that uses the odd magic as he heals him. "What are you doing here?"

The man grimaces as we near, "Trying to find a way to stop the blood mage incursion." He blinks at us Wardens with confusion crossing his features. "William?" I remove my helm as he looks at me and the Orlesian curiously, "What are the Grey Wardens doing here?"

"Trying to stop the blood mages before the templars can invoke the Right of Annulment, as we need troops for the Blight," William says irritably.

"Ah," the man says as if that was enough of an explanation for him. Which... is pretty much our reason for being here. Other than the demon-child back in Redcliffe. And the fact that templars are fucking arseholes."And your companions?"

William motions to us as he makes the introductions, "Warden Commander Shiloh Tabris, and our companion Leliana."

The Enchanter bows at the hip, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm Enchanter Karl Thekla. Creationist and Force Mage." Force magic was that odd magic then? The Enchanter suddenly turns on his heel and mumbles under his breath with a bent head... Is he looking for something? "Ah!" He bends to the ground to lift up a black leather-bound book. So called it. "Here you are!"

He turns around and holds the book out to William, "I was looking for a way to combat the dark magics, and came upon this text. It's written in a cypher that I'm unfamiliar with, but the diagrams depict the demonic-creation's favored art of shapeshifting." He shrugs. "It might come in use, if you could hold it?" He motions towards William's ever-present satchel, and William agrees to carry the book.

I look towards the Enchanter, "We're reclaiming the tower." I start. "We could use the help, if you're able."

He smiles, "I am not that old, Commander. I do believe I'll join your lot. I'd like nothing more than to see the Circle saved."

* * *

We approach the last set of stairs to what William calls the 'Harrowing Chamber', so see a templar cowering in fear behind some sort of blue shield or barrier of magical energy. The fuck?

His head snaps up at us as he hears our approach, "No! Leave me be! You will not have me demons!" He shouts at us as we near, his fear intertwining with desperation and rage in his words. His gaze is intently focused on the bitch... Flora though. Huh. "You will not tempt me! Maker – a mage! Her image will not be used against me!" I look at the bitch to see her roll her eyes and mutter, "pathetic," with a depreciating snarl.

"That's the templar Cullen, I believe. He thinks us to be demons," the Enchanter says with a small frown. "It seems he's been tortured with blood magic."

"They're all dead! They've all fallen, but me! I will resist! I am the Maker's faithful servant, and you shall not have me!" The crazed templar continues to shout.

"Oh, the poor man," the Orlesian says sadly as she steps towards the barrier. "We will not hurt you."

"No!" The man shouts, "Lies! All lies!"

"There's no point in reasoning with him," Petra sighs. "He's gone mad."

"What's this barrier?" I question and point at it. "Can we free him?"

I get shakes of the head from several of the mages – bar William and Flora. They don't seem to care about the man's state. I understand William's reasons quite well, and the bitch... is just a bitch.

"It's not arcane magic," Eadric purses his lips. "I don't know what it is."

"It almost looks like a force field of some kind," Liana murmurs and reaches out a hand just stopping shy of touching it. "I don't think we should touch it. That is probably a good idea – to not touch it. It does not look like a very nice thing." She withdraws her hand quickly.

"Begone demons!" The templar shouts and I watch as he quickly squeezes his eyes shut and covers them with his hands. His removes his hands and then looks at us dumbly. "Th-that's always worked before... You're real, aren't you? You're really here."

I nod, "We're stopping the blood mages." I turn partially away from him and towards the door, "We'll find a way to free you after we've secured the mage's safeties."

"Wait!" He shouts at me, "You must kill them all! They're all blood mages! None can be left to live – they will summon demons!"

I furrow my brow and turn back towards him, "If there are mages who _aren't_ sodding blood mages that are still alive and well – we're saving them."

"They cannot be trusted!" He insists, "If you don't kill them, then you'll doom us all!"

I snort and turn to walk away, the others following after me quickly.

As we enter a large, open chamber, we see... fucking shit I don't know what it quite is. There's some shem with a too wide smile waving his hands about as one of those snail-corpse looking Hunger demons slithers forwards and... fuses into the body of a bloodied mage being held upright on his knees by two of those arse-ugly abomination creatures. My hand quickly flies to grasp Holly's hilt as I see the shem mage scream a blood curdling scream, his skin stretching brownish-purple bruises as his muscles overgrow – and he's turned inside out. He bleeds and screams terribly as the demon forces his body's change. Tissues and skin fall freely in bloodied tendrils, and then are re-solidified into mutant tissue and bumps across his body. Sodding shit – what the fuck did that one shem just do to the other?


	27. (Apollo Wings) The Betrayer

Author note: Bet you didn't see any of this coming did ya? Wynne is actually dead, Petra and Eadric actually have proper roles in the story and will be making a comeback (shhh - I didn't say that) and we have serious angst and stuff.

I hope you enjoy our evil puppetry. I love writing angst and you may call me Ser Apollo Wings of the Angst Court.

* * *

**William Amell  
**

The Harrowing chamber. Funny how things happen like this. It's almost as if my induction into the circle proper from apprentice to mage was choreographed to have this strange significance when it happens to be the place Uldred had holed himself up to make this ridiculous protest. Why is it ridiculous? It couldn't have been more obvious. Blood magic is the main reason we mages are subjugated, how easy is it for one of weak will to submit to the power of a demon, for power or desire. The Desire to see their father well again - in Connor's case.

I've seen the depths of depravity mages can sink to in our bid for freedom, harming themselves and others in the process. But this will end now. I have my small modicum of freedom in the Grey Wardens - but I do not have freedom for them. Despite what they have done to the one place I might have called home for what life I could remember - I am a mage. I understand in a way.

We crept past the granite and sandstone walls and pillars to see... oh Maker's fucking teeth. Uldred you sick son of a bitch. A mage, an Elementalist writhing in pain as a demon of Hunger brought forward through the thinned Veil is forced into his being. His skin and robes ripping, blood pouring forth as his body couldn't withstand the onslaught of the demon until he stood as the grotesque form of an abomination. His name was Josef.

"You see Irving. I don't need your permission. It just makes it easier." Uldred drawled as the First Enchanter was hauled before him, two abominations in - templar armour cracked over their bulging forms - flanking and holding him. I didn't even know non-mages could become abominations. Fuck.

"I will never submit." Irving croaked, a glob of blood spilling over his lips. I clutched tighter to the Litany of Adralla. I've memorized the words that will break the domination of blood magic. _Non erit tibi amplius maleficarum nos _- You will hold us no more maleficar. I hurriedly passed it over at my old tutor - Karl. He'd be furthest back in this fight I can see coming - being both a Force Mage and a Creationist - yeuck - red Cumberland styled robes. His Tevine is superb - he'd be able to read it better than the Arcanists - Flora never really got a grip on that language.

"Uldred! This farce ends now!" I shouted across the chamber to the orange robed Senior Enchanter Spiritualist, drawing my katana out and holding it in a two handed grip, my magic fusing with the blade. "Freedom cannot be obtained through blood magic!"

"Oh how wrong you are mageling." He sneered in an oddly calm manner. He believes this will end well for him. I intend otherwise, we all do. Petra, Eadric, Liana, Karl, Shiloh, Leliana and even Flora will see this fight to the bitter end. "I see you've brought more vessels for me. Wonderful!"

I what? No... If he truly believes were here to submit to becoming... Uldred has become maddened. Gone is the strict teacher of the Spirit school of magic, the haughty Senior Enchanter. Now a mentally twisted husk of the mage and Libertarian he once was. "Indeed master. Five more to our ranks as well as two mundanes." My eyes widened as I glanced over at the voice. Flora. If any of our rank had been here to betray us I would have thought Liana simply for her blood magic. Not this. No. Fucking Void!

I stared as she stepped with purpose from our ranks to stand with the man who'd started all of this. She'd joined us to ensure he would have more magical forces - to further perpetuate this disastrous idea of freedom when the Rite of Annulment hangs over us like a dead goose. Is there no Maker out there that could have warned us? "You sodding bitch!" Shiloh - thank you for the obvious statement but even us mages who knew her beforehand don't have the power of speech about this. "No-one here is becoming an abomination!"

"That would be such a waste." He shook his head. "You defeated those unworthy of my gifts and so proved yourself as quite capable. Surely you can all see the power I gift?"

"We're not ever becoming abominations!" Petra and Eadric growled together.

"My soul is my own!" Liana shouted. "Freedom has many prices but this is not it!" For all her child-like wonder, she really is fairly intelligent. You picked the right side lass.

"This is not right." Leliana draw her daggers out.

"Nothing about this is right." Karl intoned. "We waste time talking with them."

"You've lost Uldred." I stepped forward. "We don't stand with the templars but we stand against you."

"Fools - all of you." He spat. "Very well." And with that a knife was in his hand and tearing through his other hand with lightning speed.

"Petra - Arcane. Eadric - Healing." Uldred faltered with his blood loss and his eyes turned red. The dagger clattered on the floor. "Karl - Force and Litany. Leliana - daggers." His skin split and dark black spikes started sprouting out of his form. "Shiloh - get angry. Liana - Spirit." I shouted over the tremendous noise of Uldred's transformation.

A burst of dispelling magic came from Uldred and all the mages in the room staggered slightly as his robes ripped off and melted in with the thick plating growing on his body, his bones shattering and re-forming until he towered in the chamber. A Pride Abomination with the powers of a Spiritualist. Holy fuck.

The frenzy started then. The two abominations that were once templars dropped Irving and Shiloh and Leliana intercepted them, blades cutting them off quickly from attacking us mages with their own skills before Petra shielded them from their flaming dying throes. Good.

Karl drew up a Pull of the Abyss and the two Rage Demons and the Josef Abomination were pulled into the center, molten demon and abomination fusing and killing before the abomination exploded in fire. I shot a Winter's Grasp at the newly formed double size Rage Demon before Petra crushed it in a Crushing Prison. Now just one left Uldred - and that's you.

I turned my katana in my grip and charged at it, the thin curved blade slicing into the plated skin of his shin like butter before tearing it out and getting blood cover me. His gargantuan forearm bashed into me and I was sent sprawling across the chamber with a crack of ribs. The blood poured thick in my lungs and I could feel the drowning sensation over the shifting Veil and roar of battle.

"Non erit tibi amplius maleficarum nos!" That was the Litany. Blood magic. Fuck. There was a guttural roar before Eadric was by my side, panting like he'd just run a mile.

"You fucking idiot." He shook his head as the Healing Aura surrounded me and the pain numbed away to leave just the weird liquid feeling in my lungs. I felt my ribs reforming under his ministrations before an Arcane Shield popped up around us. "Now fight like a mage - not a Warrior. Idiot." He rolled his eyes and brought down the shield - running over to Liana this time. The duties of a healer. I don't miss them.

Shiloh swung Holly in an arc over her head before slicing thick into Uldred's leg. She darted backwards before lunging again at the same leg and the blood pouring from it attached to her like a blanket and lifting her into the air. "Non erit tibi amplius maleficarum nos!" I screamed before the blood magic could harm her and she dropped with a sonorous clang on the floor.

I seized up and felt a Crushing Prison form around me. Where's the Arcanist on their side? And that's when I spotted her. Flora. We hadn't taken her out yet. I felt my ribs breaking anew, my organs squeezing and protesting, blood pooling under my eyeballs. I'm actually going to die. She was walking over to me, a blood-thirsty grin on her tattooed face.

Almost as I was sure my life was over a wave of dispelling magic - thank you Liana - washed over me and Flora and I was on the floor. I reached for my katana and fought through the unbearable pain even in my fingers where my bones had fractured to grip the pommel. I'm not dead yet. I took in a deep breath before I brought the katana down severing through her spine. She gurgled and shook for maybe a few seconds before falling still. Her heartbeat gone. I killed her. Maker...

I huffed on all fours, my katana wrenched from her and still in my grip at the battle. Leliana using her daggers as picks to climb up the towering Pride Abomination. Blood poured freely over her left eye from a gash above her eyebrow. Eadric was panting and sweating like a madman, glugging back one of the lyrium vials from his pocket before breaking into a run at Shiloh.

No... Petra looked over at me and shot a numbing tendril at me. I can't feel the pain any more and stood up, katana in hand as I broke into another run at Uldred. I shot fireballs at him, cauterizing the wounds so he couldn't use them to force his domination at more of us. I thrust upwards with all the strength I had left up his thigh and invigorated the blade with lightning and petrified the demonic flesh into stone.

"Fucking arse-breath!" I yanked my katana out. Shiloh - oh thank the Maker Eadric got to you in time. Shiloh dashed past me and Uldred batted us both across the room with one arm. An Arcane Shield surrounded us both before we crashed into the floor.

Everything seemed to slow down a moment and I could feel the effects of a Haste spell on me as I picked myself up - still numbed but bones and tissues broken. "Non erit tibi amplius maleficarum nos!" More blood domination. Karl - thank you. I glanced around to see Petra drop to her knees on the floor - Eadric now running over to her with a lyrium vial on his lips.

I took in a deep breath, not easy with broken ribs and tore out an arbitrary pillar before crushing it into dust and sticking it over Uldred's fists before hardening it and fusing it with the floor of the Harrowing chamber. Leliana was pushed over his shoulder where she was climbing and latched onto his head with her daggers before slipping down, demonic ichor spraying over her. There was a final growl before Liana shot a bolt of Spirit Energy at him and he exploded. Walking Bomb. It overthrows the flaming death throes of an abomination... but it also covers everything in parts of abomination. Lovely.

Karl ran over to Liana and held a lyrium vial out for the Nevarran who took it gratefully before slumping on the bloody floor. "You've done well young one." He smiled at her.

"William?" Shiloh's arm snaked around me and I felt broken bones shift. Ow. I haven't got more than one numbing tendril of a Healing Aura focused on me at the moment.

"Lass... let Eadric over." I breathed, blood slipping over my lips. My ribs really took a beating today. Eadric pushed past Shiloh, his hand covered in spilled lyrium and shaking from addling as he started to patch me up.

"You're gonna be bruised you stupid Marcher." Eadric's eyes fluttered. "And I'm going to be dizzy for about a week." I took a deep breath as all my bones were mended. So much better.

"Does anyone want healing still?" Petra staggered over - lyrium shakes too.

"I think I can manage." I smiled.

"I could have a bit." Karl spoke. "I don't know how many Spirit Bolts I got - but Maker it hurt." I walked over to the old tutor and healed up the fizzing in his veins.

"I have not seen you drink any lyrium yet." Liana's brows furrowed. "I do not understand."

"Es ist ein wenig kompliziert." I assured her I hope that was correct - I know my accent is appalling simply by the way Karl winced. She nodded before straightening up. Understood at least.

"William?" I turned to the familiar rasp. "How..."

"First Enchanter!" I ran over and helped him to stand, his joints popping with old age. "It's over... Uldred and all his co-conspirators are dead."

"Oh Maker... we're going to find it difficult to clean this all up lad." He gaze turned to the abomination fists still encased in stone in the middle of the Harrowing chamber. "And that's a more powerful spell than I ever taught you."

"Aye, I've had some practice these last few months." I smiled. "May I introduce you to the Commander of the Grey Wardens - this is Shiloh Tabris."

Shiloh was by my side, her helmet under her arm and Holly back in her scabbard. "The First Enchanter?"

"Yes, you may call me Irving though... I thought Duncan?" Irving stared at her a moment. "Ostagar was dreadful from what Wynne told us."

"Wynne's dead Irving." Petra croaked. "She tried to save the tower but refused to take any of us with her to help." The chamber took on a solemn tone for a few seconds.

"They were threatening the Rite of Annulment Irving." I changed the subject. "Greagoir said he'd only spare any of the mages if you could assure none of us are blood mages."

"Very well." He took a deep breath. "We best get moving. If someone could help me down the stairs. I'm no apprentice any more."

"I also need to speak to you... about my memories." Shiloh glanced over at me. "I have them back."

"Then I'm shocked you're even speaking." His tone rose up a few octaves - I swear it. "We'll speak of this after we talk to Greagoir."

* * *

Going back through the tower and seeing the blood a second time over was just as horrible. We managed to bring the other Senior Enchanters who were unconscious in the chamber back into the world of the living. Leorah, Torrin, Sweeney, Xavier, Linet - all alive. A Galvanist, Elementalist, Entrophist, Arcanist and Force Mage respectively... the Creationist and Spiritualist Senior Enchanters being... dead. So many mages - dead. Niall, Josef, Devens, Tyla to name a few. This wouldn't have happened if we had some freedoms.

Those people would still be alive.

I'd killed Flora. She'd turned coat on us and I was the one who ended her life.

"Orl- Leliana." Shiloh's voice took me out of the weird crushing feeling. Worse than dying from a Crushing Prison. "Why was my mother in _your_ nightmare?"

"Your mother? The elven woman?" Leliana questioned. They're both behind me but I'm sort of listening in. "She helped me escape those dungeons... when I first was in them. And I helped her too."

"She said she'd only ever met one good Orlesian in her whole life." Shiloh again. She sounds conflicted by her own words. "She was killed by the guards two weeks later. But she said she was sure she'd have died that night if not for the only good Orlesian."

"Do you think she meant me? I..."

"I think she did. You're a good shem. Now you're never going to hear that again coz I'm never repeating it. As far as anyone else knows - I hate your sodding guts."

"I wouldn't have it any other way mon ami."

"There see - I knew I'd lose this horrid feeling of liking you." Leliana giggled at the words.

"Can we all be friends?" Liana... your exuberance will not go down well unless Shiloh is in a particularly good mood, but she seems to like you so far. "We could be bestest friends and make woven bracelets!"

"You can weave threads?" Leliana sounded shocked.

"My father was a thatcher and basket-maker. My mother made tapestries. If I could not weave I would have been a disgrace!" She took in a deep breath. "In short - Ja, I weave."

"I'm thinking... if any of you come near me with a woven bracelet there'll be blood." Shiloh ground out. It didn't sound angry though. Like she was acting.

"William lad - can you open the door." Irving rasped as we got to the base of the tower.

"OPEN THE DOOR GREAGOIR! WE HAVE THE FIRST ENCHANTER!" I thumped the pommel of my katana on the metal door for good measure. There's a reason there's anti-magic runes on the door - so Elementalists can't melt it down.

"Greagoir - I am here." Irving rasped as the doors started to open, the helmet clad face with only eye slits peeking through the gap.

"Petra, Eadric - get Kinnon and the children out of Wisp Ward." The two lovebirds nodded wearily and followed my orders.

* * *

It was strange, standing again amongst the templars. This time knowing they had no power whatsoever against us as Grey Wardens. That the Rite of Annulment was not going to happen.

"Irving - I can scarcely believe my eyes." Greagoir sheathed his sword at his hip. "Are the mages here..."

"They are safe." Irving assured.

"NO! You cannot know that!" All heads turned to the voice. Oh - you. Ser Cullen. "These _mages _have destroyed what trust we have placed in them. They could all be blood mages - you cannot tell!"

"I ask that all mages present they wrists and hands for inspection." Greagoir ground out. "As I hate to say, Cullen may be correct."

"Greagoir. As I am well aware of the skills of templars." Because I figured them out long ago - hence my week in solitary. I remember that argument you and Irving had about that. "You can sense demons. A blood mage need not just slash at their limbs and it is degrading to ask all mages here present to strip themselves naked for fear."

"I also demand the use of the Right of Conscription on the mage known as Liana-" Shiloh was cut off.

"Liana Böttcher." Liana finished Shiloh's sentence. "I am to be a Grey Warden."

"I am well aware what the Right of Conscription is." Greagoir looked at me as he said that. By bad for helping Jowan. I just hope he's actually doing something good now. Idiotic man. "I must say Apprentice Amell... I mean. Grey Warden Amell. You are correct. No demons inhabit this room." Good - he believed that everyone here isn't a blood mage. Which also means Liana was telling the truth about not making a deal with a demon. "Ser Cullen, you are relieved of duties for the moment. To the templar quarters."

Cullen stared at the Knight-Commander heatedly before acquiescing to him. He isn't going to mess this up now after the shit we had to go through to save the tower. Those nightmares inflicted by the Sloth Abomination were more than I wanted to see of anyone's mind. I want to speak to Shiloh about her's... it was quite obvious she not only believed it but exactly what was going on. She looked scared of the demon that paraded as me. "We have a treaty with the Magi - I need the magical forces against the Blight. I also demand that every templar lends their blade in patriotism against this threat to Ferelden." Shiloh - that's a good idea. More forces.

"With the mages safe we cannot forswear our sacred duty to watch over them." Greagoir actually looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel after all we'd said. The conscription, demands at not presenting wrists and the fact we're actually going to use the mages and wanting the templar forces as well against the Blight. Good use of them - there are darkspawn mages I have no kin with that could have templar skills used on them. I'm not fool enough to think they don't have _some _uses. Darkspawn fodder would be a good use too.

"And in deference to that opinion - I say that without the templar forces will not have mages to look after if the Blight engulfs us all." I ground out. "I may have many reasons to hate what choices many of you made to become what you are when no mage did - but do not disregard the darkspawn threat as beneath the templars. Your skills with blades and your number will bolster what armies we have garnered so far, to make up for the Kings army lost at Ostagar."

Greagoir stared a moment at me. "If the two Grey Wardens, their companion and their recruit could join Irving and myself in my office in the matter of the Blight and _other things._" I hope those other things are about me. About why they wiped my mind blank at fourteen.

* * *

Shiloh, Liana, Leliana and myself filed into the office, a mess of papers on his desk and a disheveled cot with an empty armor stand by it. "Sit. We have much to speak on."

"The existing treaty first." Shiloh sat and motioned for me to hand her the treaty. I removed it from amidst the lyrium vials in my satchel and laid it out on the desk, my quill and ink alongside it. "If Irving could sign. I require every mage barring the children."

"That is done. I shall count myself amongst those forces." Irving dabbed my quill in the ink and signed the vellum of the treaty with his flourishing hand before blotting it with a paper on the desk.

"And now the templars pledge." Shiloh added nonchalant. "I think our point was well put a few moments ago?"

"The templars will leave a token force behind for those mages and children apprentices unable to act in battle. But the bulk will indeed be in battle. I must send word to the Grand Cleric in Denerim. Both to call off our need of the Rite of Annulment and the power to act in the armies of the Grey Wardens." Well that's the most pleasant thing a templar has ever said since we arrived here. "We also have the issue of Apprentice- I mean Grey Warden Amell."

"William. It is difficult to explain our reasons." Irving started moving over to a bookshelf and selecting a thick file before placing it on the desk. "This file is your own. Our... reasons behind the memory wipe and selected memories we could retrieve without sending you back into your own mind. It was difficult. You would not speak to a soul, would shiver if a templar entered a room. You cowered in fear over any coming close. It was... necessary to give you a chance at life. You were to be made Tranquil."

I gulped at the information presented and gingerly took the file. There was talk of the depths in which I'd gone into my mind, the scrubbed raw skin, the nightmares, the way I couldn't stand any contact with anyone or anything. Talking to myself. I was at the stages were Tranquility was seen as a mercy. It described in detail the Seeker investigation into the templars of Starkhaven, which templars were brought forward and their subsequent imprisonment in Aeonar before being sent to the headsman's block or the noose. They're dead. "I see." I said after having leafed through the file and I handed it back to the First Enchanter. "I was beyond any help by the time it was noticed I had retreated."

"How did you cope when his memories were retrieved? I will not ask of the method used." Irving asked of Shiloh. Shiloh took in a deep breath.

"It was difficult. The William I had come to know was gone. In his place a man more scared of everyone than a child witnessing his first mugging. He'd barely eat... I was told he scrubbed himself until he bled. He wouldn't speak." Shiloh glanced over to me. "But he knows who he is now. It was... difficult to help him find a way out of his mind."

"Of that there is no doubt. It is uncatalogued that a Ponderous Mage was successfully brought back from the recesses of his mind. Kinloch Hold is the only circle that willingly takes them - hencewhys all our Ponderous Mages are foreign." Greagoir slumped into his chair. "Just how was it accomplished?"

Shiloh fidgeted in her chair a moment. "I used a forceful tone. I couldn't stand it anymore. I forced him to walk with me until we were in a secluded place. There were accusations of a sort before he just... collapsed."

"I see." Irving glanced at the both of us. He knows - sly First Enchanter that he is. "Is there any more business that needs attending to?"

"There is a matter in Redcliffe. The Arl was poisoned and his son has proven to be a mage. I believe he has made a deal with a demon of Desire to make the Arl well again. A deal that has not cured the Arl. The township was under attack from walking corpses when we arrived. We need-" Irving cut me off and looked over at Greagoir.

"The demon struck a deal with a child. I believe we must make haste to Redcliffe and enter the Fade to destroy the demon in it's own home to free the child. If we cannot it will be a matter of having the child made Tranquil or the templars to do... their duty." Irving intoned. "Myself and Senior Enchanters Leorah, Linet and Sweeney will be best tasked to this, the templars Bran and Roderick will also be best tasked - if the situation is not in our control and to bring the lyrium required."

"Dear Maker. A child." Greagoir closed his eyes. "I do not envy the task Bran and Roderick may have to do."

"None of us do Greagoir. We shall set off immediately."

* * *

Kester was back in his ferry for us to travel back across Lake Calenhad, a caravan was brought from the stables connected to the tavern and Shiloh and myself saw to retrieving Oghren. Who I really hope isn't drunk. The night was pitch black, the moon and stars the only light in the sky as we walked the almost inky grass of the dockside to to the tavern.

"Oghren! You better not be drunk!" Shiloh called into the eerily empty tavern. Oghren pried his head off the table and blinked at us both.

"How's there four a yous?" He demanded, his eyes unfocused as he stared.

"We're heading back to Redcliffe. On the double man!" I saw a muscle jump in Shiloh's jaw. Oghren slipped off the high barstool and slapped down two silver on the bar. How did he drink that much? We were only gone a few hours! Beers aren't that expensive. He could be drinking expensive drinks though. I'll assume that.

"Hey... Shiloh. I have a fav... favor to ask a ya." Shiloh rolled her eyes.

"No. Not in Orzammar, not here, not ever. Never gonna happen bud."

"Hehehe, not that girlie... you see that girl over there." He turned rather abruptly and pointed over to a dwarven woman picking up beer mugs. "Er name is Felsi. I used ta... buck the midnigh' bronto wiv 'er. If ya catch my drift hehehe."

"And you want to what exactly?" Shiloh blinked at him. "Continue to get your rocks wet?" Oghren guffawed at her words.

"Yeah... could ya... ya know. Talk me up?" Shiloh just stared at him a moment before her gauntlet swiped down her face.

"William - make him sound good. I'm heading back outside to get some air." And with that I was left alone with the dwarf and no clue on how to 'talk a dwarf up'. Shit.

"Give me a moment to speak to her." I walked past the swaying Oghren and up to this Felsi. "Would your name be Felsi by any chance?"

"Who wants to know?" She replied, not bothering to look up. "Oh, and if you want a drink - we have no rum. We ran outta that last week. We're also got no brandy - we got outta that a month ago."

"Let me guess - no wine either?" I smiled. I'm trying to be a wingman here. This doesn't work.

"You could have wine - but it tastes like rat droppings." She shrugged, hefting the mugs in her arms onto the bar.

"So. Just a question lass. Do you happen to know a dwarf called Oghren?" That was when she actually looked up at me, a pretty face, slightly upturned nose but not the bulbous thing her counterparts seemed to have, dirty blonde hair up in two small buns.

"I might. Why?"

"I just so happen to be a companion of the Mighty Oghren. A Warrior without compare." I swear - I'm a terrible liar. And she saw right through it. Seems she actually knows Oghren.

"That tin-caste can shove whatever he wants where the sun don't shine. I'm not speaking to him ever again after what he did." Oh shit.

"Right lass... well it's been nice to speak to you." I hopped away and stopped where Oghren had been watching. "She's not buying the Mighty Oghren. She said she doesn't want to speak to you again."

"Perfick. Just let her rile erself up. She gets all hot an' bothered like tha' then I'll sidle up all smooth like." He gave me a toothy grin. "I'll show you how ta really talk to wimmen Stretch." He pulled his greaves up by the belt and shook a dead leg before trying his best to walk up to this Felsi very 'casually' which translated as pretty much dropping on his arse at her feet. Real smooth Oghren.

"I thought the cloudgazer was suspicious - and look - I have a drunken nug in my line of sight."

"You ain't changed a bit you hot piece a lava!" He waggled his eyebrows. "Wanna start were we left off?" He then proceeded to make kissy faces. Joyous of joys. Now what do I do?

"Oghren - if I want to see a guy piss-blind drunk start a fight with a roasted nug and then lose to the roasted nug. I'd have stayed working in Tapsters."

"It weren't a fair fight. That nug was cheatin'." Oghren slurred. Maker's breath - this is awkward.

"Come on Oghren - we have important matters to attend to. I'm sure the Arl wouldn't like to be kept waiting." I motioned for him to leave but Felsi grabbed his arm.

"The Arl? Just what are you playing at?" Her eyebrows rose up.

"Oh jus' important stuff. Very busy I am." He wiped a hand over his nose as he snorted.

"Well if you're not too busy... come and see me some time." The Void did that happen? This lass has a weird taste in men.

"I'll come an see ya. Wouldn't be the same without ya wench."

"Tin-caste sellsword." She smiled. "Now get to your important things. Don't go dying on me now."

"It takes more 'an a few 'spawn and monsters ta kill ol' Oghren!"

And with that - Oghren and I left with him grinning from ear to ear. I don't get it at all. Not one bit.

* * *

Blossom and Stormy did not approve of being woken up in the middle of the night after how we'd pushed them to get here in the first place. They also did not enjoy being hitched up to a caravan with eleven people including Leliana steering them in it.

Blossom reared up and Leliana cried out at them to calm in Orlesian before snapping the reins to bull the horse into submission. "We will rest you soon mon cheval, just a few hours to be underway." She soothed. Blossom whinnied in reply and gave the rogue the dirtiest look a horse can before almost dragging Stormy to move them. Blossom is definitely the leader of the two horses. Most probably because he had the worst name of the two colts. I can't imagine having such a girly name being a male horse.

* * *

It was a dawn's break when the horses refused to be pushed any more. The templars and other mages had already slipped into the Fade but I can't sleep with the lyrium resonance so close. Shiloh couldn't either and with so many ears we hadn't been able to speak. Oghren was drooling on the floor of the caravan - mumbling about nugs and deep stalkers.

Shiloh and myself slipped out of the caravan, unhitching the horses and staking them up at the edge of the lake to drink before Shiloh pulled off her boots and dangled her feet into the cool waters. I don't know what to do. We need to talk. There's been a horrid amount of tension between us and I've tried to avoid it. This isn't going to go away though.

"Shiloh." I sat next to her, legs crossed. "I think we need to talk." I looked over the brilliant shimmering orange over the murky waters and took in a deep breath.

"Yeah. You start." Her mouth pulled into a small smile for a while before her gaze shifted over the waters too. "You could start with that bitch-"

"Flora? That would probably be the best place to start." I took another deep breath. This doesn't get easier and I winced at the bruises on my torso. I'm going to hurt for a while. "Is there anything you'd prefer me to say? That you want to know?"

"She... she was an elf! A Rivaini elf! I..." She faltered, looking at me a moment before determinately keeping her eyes on the water.

"You what?" I kept my voice low and calm. "You're not comparing yourself to her are you lass?"

"I thought you loved me for me." Her voice was barely above a whisper and I was stunned into silence for a few seconds. I shook my head and really looked at her, moving her chin with my hand for her to look at me.

"I do." She blinked at me, her gaze unbelieving. Do believe me. "I once said that attraction is a fickle mistress. No - she's a cruel heartless bitch. I thought you were the bonniest thing I'd ever laid eyes on from the moment I saw you and I bet that sounds so cliche but keep on listening." I closed my eyes a moment before opening them again. "But I could love you no matter how you looked. I love the lass inside you, this strong woman who swears worse than an apprentice who heard a dirty word for the first time, who trusts my judgement - so implicitly that even when faced with people she despises she puts on a brave face. And I'm talking about Leliana and Morrigan here. A woman so magnificent she brought me out of the stupor of my mind and forced me to see just how amazing and wonderful she is. I love you Shiloh. You. Not anyone else."

"But..." She broke the gaze and looked at the water. "You used to love her."

"I won't lie. I did. But you've met her. You know her now. She was a callous bitch who manipulated people into doing what _she_ wanted. I can't even believe I used to even like her." I grit my teeth a little. "And I killed her. Maker... I killed her. I can't believe I... I could never have even thought about taking a life before I was a Grey Warden and I killed her without even a second thought. I think that shows how much I didn't love her in the end."

"She turned on us. You didn't have a choice." Shiloh soothed - albiet - it sounded begrudgingly. How is that actually possible?

"I didn't have to kill her. It could have been anyone else. But I... I can still see the way my katana slipped right through her spine. The blood." My hand dropped and I couldn't bear to think of if I was capable of hurting - let alone killing this gorgeous lass next to me. "I'm a horrid person. There's nothing but disgusting darkness in me and I can't ever let it be. It eats away at me. I don't deserve you." I made to get up but was pulled down rather sharply - Shiloh's hand in mine.

"Now you listen to me." Shiloh took a deep breath in and I can tell she's fighting something to speak to me. "You're not horrid. You're this sweet, understanding shem mage that I've fallen helplessly for. I can't even imagine why someone so damned good the sun could shine out his arse would even look at me twice. You remember all those names of the mages that turned on us. I see you almost in pain when we kill shit other than 'spawn. You addle yourself to heal everyone before you think of yourself! Maker's sodding arsehole William. You saw the cruelty in Dust Town and helped so many Casteless. I swear the Denerim Chantry is most probably overflowing with branded dwarves."

"How does that save the life of any I've cut short?" I snorted a long breath, a lump forming in my throat. "I wasn't powerful enough to save Niall, to prevent any needless slaughter. We could have knocked the blood mages out and let the fucking templars deal with them. We could have-" I was cut off with a finger over the lips.

"Their lives have value but think on the amount we're saving just a moment. We're Grey Wardens. We're going to end the Blight and save all of Thedas - even the fucking Orlesians. If we really thought on it - we could most probably count the amount of people who died at your hands with enough ease. I'm a murderer William - I killed because I wanted to. Because that shit-breath noble deserved it-" This time I cut her off.

"You killed to right wrongs. I've killed-"

"To survive." She breathed. "We do what we must." She looked over at the waters again - the sun now lazily just touching the horizon and dyeing the sky a pale orange fading to pink then white and powder blue. "So... you love me for me."

"I do. But there's something else I need to speak to you about..." I took in a calming breath. "In the Fade. You were..."

"Pregnant. I guess I haven't stopped being female no matter how much being a Grey Warden interferes with that." I shrugged but I caught the way her breath hitched before she said 'pregnant'.

"That was part of my question... There was a demon of me and... her. Naked as bairns. I guessed as much what you'd thought you'd seen and... I just want to tell you you've ruined me." I shook my head, my lips tugged into a smile. "I couldn't ever think of another lass let alone be that much of a bastard."

"I knew... somewhere deep down. That you're this weird shem." She smiled too.

"I'm the weirdest shem you'll ever have the misfortune to meet." I grinned - my lips lowering to hers in a soft quick kiss. I went to move away when my collar was gripped in a strong hand and I was kept pressed to Shiloh, her mouth opening slightly in a sigh and her tongue seeking entrance to my mouth. I pinned her to the ground quickly, my mouth still on hers our tongues fighting for domination as her hands ghosted down my robe clad back.

"Definitely the weirdest shem." Shiloh broke apart a moment and grinned. "Now get back here - I'm not done with you. There are... strong words."

"Not here... saucy minx." I pried myself away from her by channelling my magic into strength like Meddolwen taught me and slipped to just lay by her side, my arms tight around her armoured waist and my head tucked into under her chin. So it was fairly uncomfortable but I'm not letting go now. "I missed laying next to you."

"It's been one night. And we were awake for all of it saving you sodding mages from destroying yourselves and travelling!"

"Aye - but it was one lonely night." I grinned into her throat, kissing the pulse point. I'm going to worship this lass until the day I die.

* * *

Once we'd had _some_ sleep we continued on until nightfall. I started the campfire and the two templars, Leliana, Oghren and Shiloh set up what tents we had - which considering we were eleven-fold in number - was quite a few. None of us mages know how to set up tents - I no longer feel like such an outcast in that respect. The templars were going to sleep in the caravan, Linet and Leorah were to share, as were Sweeney and Irving. Liana said she'd share with Leliana which left Oghren on his own and Shiloh with me.

"I'd never have thought you'd learn Elementalism." Leorah prodded the vegetable and dried jerky stew Shiloh had made with her spoon. "You couldn't get a flicker of flames when I was your tutor."

"You were his tutor?" Shiloh asked, gazing briefly up at the elven mage before going back to her food.

"Oh yes, until he ended up putting me through my paces and I had to hand him over to Irving." She smiled. "He could have been the next First Enchanter if he put his mind to it."

"Balderdash." Irving smirked. "He _would_ have been the next First Enchanter. I was planning on resigning come his next name-day."

"You what?" I stared incredulously at the two Galvanists. "I'd have been... the youngest First Enchanter - and without having been made either Enchanter or Senior Enchanter beforehand?" My hand raked through my loose hair as I tried to comprehend that. Wow.

"Oh yes - and the first one who was a Ponderous Mage. It would have been quite the precedent." Leorah took a bite of her hot stew. "I shan't every get used to this eating meat... it's rather different to even the chicken soup we're allowed every so often."

"The thing you'll never get used to is if we get ambushed by giant spiders." I laughed, glad the topic of conversation had changed.

"No! Don't say that!" She gasped.

"I take it there's a bit of hatred for spiders here?" Leliana mused. "Do tell."

"I just don't like them." Leorah sniffed.

"Spiders are creepy." Liana stuck her tongue in her cheek. "Creepier than demons. At least demons do not have eight legs and huge eyes and venomous fangs and-"

"Stop!" Leorah's hands were clamped over her pointed ears. "No more spider talk!"

"How about a song?" Leliana brightened up. "I could play the lute and we could sing."

"I'll play - it's been a while since these old fingers got on a lute." Sweeney set his empty bowl down.

"Maker's breath - everyone hold your ears!" Linet laughed, her black bun shaking loose some tendrils with the force of it.

"Oh very funny - I do remember as certain mage falling over on their robes when-" Sweeney was cut off with Leliana handing him her lute. Oh - very bad idea. Sweeney fiddled with the knobs on the lute, the old Entrophist smiling as he was sure the lute was tuned.

His fingers found the right-ish notes and Irving smiled. "I know this one!"

"Everyone else better too - I forgot the words." Sweeney laughed. To whit... Irving and myself were going to have to sing. Because - Sweeney picked a song for male vocalists. The two of us waited for the 'right' moment to start singing. 'Right' being the place it was supposed to have been started - not with how Sweeney messed up the notes.

"I'm comin' home, I've done my time  
Now I've got to know what is and isn't mine  
If you received my letter tellin' you I'd soon be free  
Then you'll know just what to do if you still want me  
If you still want me."

All the women smiled at our singing - which I have to admit wasn't the worst thing in sound. It was fairly good - and I can't sing to save my life. It's just a low rumbling brogue normally but I couldn't leave Irving to suffer on his own. Then the women of the group decided to join in for the chorus.

"Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree  
It's been three long years  
Do you still want me?  
If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree  
I'll stay on the cart  
Forget about us  
Put the blame on me  
If I don't see a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree."

Liana, Leliana, Shiloh and Linet can all sing. Leorah cannot. It's a little shrill. But we're not in a competition here. It's covering up every flat or sharp note of Sweeney's where there shouldn't be one. The lasses all quietened down again and looked pointedly at myself and Irving.

"Cart driver, please look for me  
'Cause I couldn't bear to see what I might see  
I'm really still in prison, and my love she holds the key  
A simple yellow ribbon's what I need to set me free  
I wrote and told her this:"

The women started up again with us.

"Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree  
It's been three long years  
Do you still want me?  
If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree  
I'll stay on the cart  
Forget about us  
Put the blame on me  
If I don't see a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree."

Then Irving - the utter bastard didn't seem to want to sing the last verse. I didn't realize however until I was singing on my own.

"Now the whole damn cart is cheering  
And I can't believe I see  
A hundred yellow ribbons 'round the old oak tree!"

Sweeney finished the song with a rapid strum on the strings and everyone clapped.

"C'était magnifique!" Leliana whooped. "Encore! Encore!"

"Non, ma petite pomme." I smirked. Leliana burst out into a fit of giggles.

"I'm a little apple now?" She laughed, wiping a finger under her eye. "Does Shiloh have a nickname too?"

"Give me an Orlesian nickname and I'll break your fingers." She threatened.

"No more Orlesian will be spoken." I muttered quickly. "Nevarran on the other hand."

"Ich hoffe nicht - your Nevarran is good. Your accent is atrocious!" Liana slapped a hand on her mouth.

"Possis dicere Tevine" Irving sniffed. "Did you learn other languages I can't remember what ones Karl say you Ponderous Mages learnt?"

"No. But we have a companion who would speak Antivan with you and Linet." I shrugged. "I'm off to my tent. Until the morning everyone?"

"Gut nacht." Liana yawned. "Maker's jellied fruits - I have first watch with the dwarf!"

* * *

I wish I hadn't said anything about spiders. We got ambushed by a few just an hour outside of Redcliffe. Nasty blighters.

Shiloh cleaved one in half horizontally as Oghren brought his axe heavily down on another. Leorah - very much as expected was screaming and loosing lightning bolts as quickly as possible the whole time. Linet was throwing the spiders about like they were nothing with her Force Magic - got to say that the Maker's Fist was interesting - squished spider anyone?

Irving picked stone over lightning due to Leorah's extensive use of the spell - eating up the inherent static in the air and Leliana was firing arrows through a wall of an inferno I conjured. Now burning spiders are gorgeous things. Not. Sweeney cast a Misdirection Hex on the lot of them before they started spinning in disorientated circles.

Liana shoved the bladed end of her staff into a spider and it exploded with a Walking Bomb spell over her, green venom and bloody ichor spraying over her.

The fight over we had to really make haste to Redcliffe. Leliana didn't have her venom counters on her so Zevran would have to treat Liana of the spider venom - it wasn't strong but she was writhing in pain before I summoned a Healing Aura over her and Sweeney set her to sleep.

* * *

We pulled up into the courtyard of the castle and Leliana put the horses to the trough while Shiloh ran inside to get Zevran. Sweeney kept Liana asleep and I was keeping a painstaking Healing Aura up. Irving passed me one of the vials of lyrium and I shook my head.

"No need. Plenty of mana." He frowned at my words. "I mean it - no need."

"You've kept an aura up for an hour - and before you were using magic." He intoned, nudging me with the blue vial.

"I have the mana of roughly two powerful mages. It sort of happened between nearly two months in the deep roads and fighting a curse of lycanthropy." I sighed. "It's complicated Irving."

"I see. I trust no blood magic was used for this new power?" He eyed the vial and sucked in a raspy breath. "No - I know you. You wouldn't use it even if you share the majority view that it is magic like any other but with dire consequences to both user and those they care about."

"Aye. My point exactly." Liana shifted a little, as if in pain again and I intensified the numbing tendrils of the Healing Aura. "Could I have a sip of that lyrium actually? We still have a demon to defeat in the Fade right?"

"Are you planning on being the mage that battles the demon then?" Sweeney's hand shook with his age and his rapid regeneration of the sleeping spell. "I'll have some of that lyrium there Irving if you'd be so kind?"

"I told you spiders are disgusting creatures." Leorah sighed. "I need to stretch my legs a little. May I stretch my legs Ser Roderick?"

"You may." The templar nodded to the elven mage. "If all arbitrary mages to this please get out of the cart and help Bran take the lyrium and start setting the ritual up?"

Linet, Leorah and one of the templars filed out - as did Oghren as he's not happy about being cooped up. Leliana was back in the caravan again and sluiced her flannel in the cooled water I 'made' (Ice and a wee bit of fire) before wringing it out and placing again on Liana's forehead to abate the fever that coupled with the poison. Irving left the vial stoppered on Liana's stomach and Sweeney picked it and drank roughly half of it.

"Much better." He sighed before his hand glowed orange with another application of the sleeping spell.

"That damned assassin is 'ere!" Oghren grunted and a familiar lithe form slipped into the caravan with a vial of clear liquid.

"Sniff test." Leliana took the vial from the assassin and inhaled. "Oui - it is the correct counter."

"She accidentally drank some - pour it down her throat and rub gently. Sweeney - reverse the spell." The Senior Enchanter shook his head a little as if remembering how to work the magic before clicking his tongue and the orange light seeped from Liana and back to his hands.

Liana's eyes fluttered open and she moved groggily up to sit. Leliana held the clear liquid out for the Nevarran to drink before Liana nodded and sipped the venom counter slowly as the Orlesian rubbed her pale neck gently with a fingerless leather gloved hand. "Danke schön Leliana." The Spiritualist smiled and went to stand on the wooden floor of the caravan with help from the other woman.

"Would you say you are up for more strenuous activities now my dear?" I didn't even notice Zevran was still here.

"In your dreams." Liana drawled, still sleepy. "I... I'm not too comfortable with..." She looked out of the caravan at an unspecified point. I understand. I shot a cold glare at him and he seemed to understand from the way his mouth quirked and he nodded solemnly.

"I'll cope." Zevran sighed dramatically - back to his usual self again - some things won't change. "I shall see you all later. There is a gorgeous stablehand that has my name begging to be brought forth from his lips." And with that - Zevran hopped out of the caravan. I can feel salve making being a sure thing soon enough if the assassin keeps up this promiscuity.

"We're being called into the receiving room for the ritual. Is your recruit well again?" One of the templars stuck his head into the caravan. Argh - go away.

"Aye. Let's sort this out." I picked up the rest of the vial of lyrium and sipped a little to make sure I'd have enough mana. I think I might have volunteered but Irving is odd. He might think it won't be a good idea. Especially as he knows - he has to know that my memories were locked in the Fade - and that I went into the Fade to get them. He worries.

* * *

Linet and Leorah opened up the spellbook and started to mutter the Tevine that would help them locate the demon. _Inveniemus vos daemonium_. Sweeney bent to his knees and pinched the processed lyrium dust in between a specially designed glove to touch raw lyrium before crawling in an awkward by very accurate circle on the floor. It was quite amazing considering his eyesight was failing as well as his joints. Alas - even Spirit Healing can't stop old age. Irving kicked out the stand on the portable Fade travelling pedestal and proceeded to pour liquid lyrium into the font at the top, placing the pedestal in the 'sun' zone of the lyrium circle - the east. Before nudging it with his foot ever so slightly north-east around the circle edge - careful not to disturb Sweeney's line.

Shiloh was watching the whole thing with a look between confusion and intrigue the whole time. I don't think she likes feeling useless. But this is a magic thing. Mundanes aren't very useful in magical things. I almost want to tell her to leave the room so we can concentrate but I want her here. Irving smiles at the placement of the pedestal before carefully walking over the line of lyrium dust.

"We can direct one mage to the plane of the Fade to... deal with the demon." That wasn't the best choice of words. I hope the templars in the room understood the poorly placed words as 'kill the demon'. He straightens out a little with a rustle of his starchy green robes. "I could travel myself, or... if you prefer another..." His gaze flits to me a brief moment. I'm a fairly experienced Fade walker. Being a Spirit Healer as well as a Harrowed Mage... alongside the Sloth demon mess and Meddolwen. I see the corners of his lips turn into a small smile - like a smirk as he turns back to Shiloh. Oh Holy Andraste - nothing gets past this wily First Enchanter.

"William?" I quickly stop thinking at look at Shiloh. She's - concerned. She worries about me a lot. But she definitely picked up on what the First Enchanter meant. I would have been able to do this spell... if I was four mages as well as able to enter the Fade. So I could have worked the ritual given enough time to cultivate my powers. A thing Connor lacked. A thing Redcliffe lacked. "Wanna kill a fu- demon?" I think it's so very cute when she tries to amend her language when speaking to certain people. I think Irving's spent enough time around foul mouthed apprentices to have heard a fair bit of swearing.

"Aye." I finally reply, stepping forward to proper volunteer myself. What's Irving going to do? Publicly say I can't do this? "I have some experience with that lass."

"You have a volunteer." Shiloh nods to the First Enchanter and I move toward the lyrium circle.

"If you could step into the circle my boy? And be careful not to disturb the lyrium dust." I know that. Thanks for the clarification. I suppose that was slightly more for the benefit of the mundanes in the room. They aren't to crowd round and disrupt the spell.

Shiloh makes an agitated noise in the back of her throat "Don't you need Connor?" She asks, audibly pausing just a split second before saying the boy's name. It's as difficult for her to say 'shem' names as it is for me to say templar names. Barring Greagoir. It's deliciously indulgent and it feels like sticking a finger up at authority to say it.

"We can sense the demon once we direct our energies in the font. It would be less dangerous this way – and the templars are on guard outside the boy's room as well in case things go... sour." Oh - I don't like the sound of that. It sounds positively 'we should just kill the misguided lad'. I actually make the move to get into the lyrium circle now and Irving follows me in and places a hand on the side of the font.

"Just like the Harrowing lad. I'll sort out the magic - you do what you do best and defeat this demon." Irving whispers. I nod slightly.

"Except this one is a Desire Demon not a Pride Demon." I mutter quietly back before I touch to the lyrium, feeling the static suffuse into my fingers then arm until the feeling of it encompasses my entire body and I feel a mixture of lightness and extreme tiredness and my vision fails.

I feel the presence of the four other mages through direct contact in the lyrium - aiding and willing me to the correct plane of the Fade. "_Desiderium inest decidet. Inveniet eam adolescens magus_." Desire resides in the Fade. Find it young mage. I quickly translate the words as I feel the my knees go weak with the lyrium exposure. I get a lot of lyrium. I'm going to be utterly resistant to pretty much most magic one day. Except non-hostile of course. Lyrium is weird.

I think it's weird my mind goes into overdrive when I'm supposed to be doing something.

* * *

The hazy Fade seems to solidify under my feet as I land on the ground, feet first. It's always disconcerting being in the Fade. Like the demons and spirits here attempt to make it as plausible as a real place as possible. But then fail miserably.

I'm in a library of sorts... the books look huge though. It's definitely odd because the bookcases are the right size. Like they're wrapping around the impossible dimensions they need to. I stop looking at the landscape I find myself in and feel for the tugging presence of the demon around here.

That's when it whispers, like a caress to me in the sensuous Fade-air. Calling for me. Willing for a more powerful host. Oh I'll show it more powerful.

I will myself at the demonic presence until I find a vision of Isolde at a desk, a book propped open on the wooden surface (which looks too knotted to be proper wood - it'd be all branches). Connor is seated in her lap, animatedly pointing at pictures in the book and his brow furrowing as his infantile tongue tries to say the words presented in the pictures. I'd say he's possibly three or four in this scene of sorts.

"Well done my boy." Isolde still sounds like water is dripping constantly out her nose. That's a brilliant metaphor for Orlesian accents. I'll store that one away for Shiloh to giggle over. "Now what is this a picture of?"

"Moo-cow." He scrunches his face up to visibly think on it.

"Demon - I believe you're finding babysitting tiresome?" I address the Isolde - because the image of Connor is just another prop in the Fade - meant to confuse. She ruffled the hair of the boy and pushed him off her lap.

"Entirely." 'Isolde' drawled, standing with a hip thrust out, her voice taking on the sultry tones of a Desire demon. "How about you show me just how powerful a mage you are?" I think her innuendos hare worse than Zevrans. Argh. Not having this conversation. I moved forward and grasped the image of Isolde by the neck - holding the slim Orlesian woman high (because it's great being in the Fade tall - I'm not a short thing!) and invigorating the hand with enough static from the Fade-air that it would put down a bronto. I swear it.

The demon choked for air and started bleeding and cracking with the force of the spell. The 'prop Connor' is crying and running at me, beating his small fists on me until the 'Isolde' demon shows it's true form at which point 'prop Connor' runs away as fast as his wee legs can carry him. The demon claws at my arm in a futile attempt to be rid of me and I slam it down with my Arcane Warrior channelled strength - actually popping it's head off.

_Fool mage. That wasn't really me. Nice hand work though. Perhaps you'll be a worthy host after all._ Oh - you bitch. That wasn't the demon. I straighten up from the ground and search for the demon's pull in my mind.

I wander further into the world created by the demon for Connor's imprisonment and find him slightly older atop a horse with an older gentleman helping him put his feet in the stirrups. Is that what Arl Eamon looks like? Maker - he's a lot older than his wife. Arranged marriage? That wouldn't be right... Fereldens don't typically like Orlesians. So... she's after his status. Interesting. I'll muse on this later though as the demon feels like it's in this older gentleman.

"You're here to hurt my boy aren't you?" His voice is oddly gravelled. Another pipe smoker? It doesn't sound like it but it does. The Fade is weird.

"If you mean destroy the demon holding him. Aye." I shrug. It won't harm the lad. It'll put him right. The man almost turns to punch me but I manage to block the punch with a quick application of fire... well I lie. Stone mixed with fire. Molten rock. That has to hurt.

The demon shows it's true form immediately before sinking heavily down to the Fade floor as I bring the stone particles on the fist and floor to form cohesive bonds. "Now you listen demon. I'm saving the boy. This better not be another trick." Then I solidified the rest of the scantily clad demon with a Cone of Cold before shattering it with a kick in the rib area. Demon shards are pretty.

Oh Maker - Liana is rubbing off on me.

_Our game isn't over mage._ The Desire demon calls out. It had better end soon. Because I'll personally obliterate it soon enough.

I push further into the Fade until I'm in just Raw Fade. No illusions. No trickery I can sense. It's refreshing. Very un-demon-like though.

"So this is the real you?" I smirk at the demon and it hovers over slightly. "I must say - I like what I see."

"So you'll accept my proposal? Let me share your body and I leave the boy alone?" She drifts closer the mockery of breath on my neck as she leans into my throat.

"Wrong." Because you play demons as hard as they'll try and play you. I hold the demon in a tight grip and trust my new Elementalist skills as I seek her particles and start to shake them up, make them faster until the flesh of her body is melting and burning away, slipping off me like oil until I freeze her solid again and shoot lightning at the icy puddle of demon. "This is how you die." That was fairly calm and collected. I stomped down on the lightning infused puddle of icy demon and it cracked and smoked back into the ether of the Fade.

Definitely dead.

* * *

My head. It hurts so much. I reach up and touch to my temple with a weaker form of my healing spell to dissipate the horrid buzzing in my brain. I feel a familial cold burning thrum near and look up. "Did you kill it?" That was quick - I think she also kicked a bit of Sweeney's lyrium circle as she came over. So you had better hope I did Shiloh.

"Aye. The demon of Desire no longer has a hold on the wee lad." I smiled. Desire is an easy demon to defeat. You just listen to your head and not your baser wants. Like family and friends and pleasure. Maker - it's horrid being a mage. There's a lot of repressing. Speaking of repressing - Shiloh you look good enough to eat. Perhaps later when everyone else is asleep there will be... things I must show you.

She drops with a clang on the stone floor to her knees and she hugs me for all I'm worth. Ow. I have bones under here. Your armour really digs in Shiloh. I am a delicate mage flower. "You okay William?" She breathes into my shoulder. I feel very on display. There's two people in this room who used to teach me magic. This is odd.

"Nothing I couldn't handle lass." I assured her, moving my left arm around her shoulder as my right arm is the only thing keeping me from dropping to the floor under the weight of Shiloh's armour. I want to know just how she can wear heavy metal plates. It's heavy for a start.

"Good," She stands up and I feel like I can breathe a little again when she offers a hand for me to get up. I gratefully take it as I have a little bit of lyrium shakes from just a wee bit too much lyrium even for me. "Let's go find his Orlesian mamae and tell her it's all sorted."

It had better be. If he does another deal with a demon Redcliffe and he can all get slaughtered. We've done enough for these people. Let's get these troops shall we?


	28. (Musicalrain) The Discoveries

Author Note: Apollo wrote some awesome fluffy angst last chapter, didn't she? *giggles* I noticed the links didn't work in my last A/N – well! There's direct links to my deviantart account (Musicalrain0) and The Author Exchange forum website on the bottom of my FF profile (Musicalrain). If you click on them, you'll be redirected to the correct site(s). I know I haven't thanked you all lately – but all you readers, reviewers, etc. are totally awesome! :D

And! - I'm asking you all a question – what are your thoughts on Liana? Do you like/hate her?

Also – this update's delay is totally my fault. A result of randomness in my RL, my need of a break/laziness, and difficulty I had writing a few of these bits. :/ I cannot apologize enough! So sorry you all! But hopefully you'll all enjoy this chapter enough to forgive me? :) Suffice it to say for this chapter there's...

Content warnings for explicit consensual adult content... and brief mentions of non-consensual adult content (nothing graphic/explicit though!).

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

I push open the door to the main chamber of the castle harshly and yell into the open hall, "Zevran! Get your Antivan arse over here!"

I see a tan-colored blur – it's Ward as he's running as fast as he can towards me at a harsh gallop much like a miniature horse. He barks happily practically in my face, just before he tries to knock me over – all I do is stagger and hold on to the mabari's shoulders when he jumps up. "Missed you too boy," I kiss his forehead. "Go get the assassin, Ward – we need him right now." Ward backs off of me and gives me a bark of acknowledgement before dashing off to fetch the Antivan. Mabari are smart critters. Smarter than some shems I know. A picture of a mabari in a nobleman's suit comes unbidden to my mind, and I shake my head at my silly thoughts.

"You're back?" Alistair comes walking over towards the doorway I'm standing in – William and Sweeney are back in the caravan keeping an eye over Liana with the Orlesian and one templar too (which that made William oh so happy). The others are milling about the courtyard waiting for orders and seeing to their preparations for their ritual.

"Yep – long story short we got the mages' help here, and the mage and templar forces for our armies." I purse my lips, "It's a _really_long story. I'll tell you later. Or better yet – ask the Orlesian. She likes telling stories." More than me anyway, even when I ramble. Which isn't often outside of my own thoughts.

"You called Commander?" Zevran saunters up with Ward at his heels and yawns widely with a fist to his mouth. Was he sodding sleeping? It's the middle of the afternoon man! I answer with a scowl firmly on my face,

"Our recruit was poisoned by a fucking spider – the Orlesian doesn't have her venom counters."

"Ah. And where is he?" He perks up.

"_She_is in the caravan in the courtyard unconscious. I suggest you tend to her right away."

He crosses an arm across his chest and lowers his head, "As you command, mi comandante." What ever the sod all that means. So long as he cures Liana. Would hate to have rescued the girl from the templars' abuses only for her to suffer permanent damage from a sodding spider. It seems the templars pick favorites to abuse – and she was one of them. Wonder why? Did they just want to see if they could crush her natural good nature? Good thing Petra and Eadric seemed to be as well off as they could be, or I would've offered to make them Wardens too. Then again, if one of them didn't survive the Joining (how ever we get that done) it would've been just... practically a death sentence for the other. Perhaps in both spirit and body. I don't think I could do that to them. They're inseparable – even I could see that. Not that they were being subtle around us. They love each other despite their situation. Shem and elf – two mages...

"'Our recruit'?" Alistair questions as the Antivan leaves, and calls my attention from my wondering thoughts.

I nod. "A Nevarran mage. Her name's Liana."

"Let me guess," Alistair puffs out his cheeks a moment. "Another healer?"

I shake my head, "Spiritualist." And blood mage, but I'm not mentioning that around the templars. Former blood mage though – she swore off of it if we let her live. So she really is just a Spiritualist now. Technically. We'll just go with that.

"And she looks like..."

I sigh at the older Warden. "Why don't you go introduce yourself? She's very friendly... and funny. You'd get along."

"You're not saying shem, so I assume she's an elf?" He mentions over his shoulder as he starts to walk away.

"Nope – shem!" I shout after him. One of the only shems that have instantly disarmed me... and pretty much instantly took a liking too. It's because she acts like a puppy, and I'm such a dog person. That's got to be it. And she reminds me of a few people that I'd disembowel anyone that'd hurt them – namely William and Shianni. So my associations of her person blatantly work in her favor – since she's not dead. And those associations are still withstanding. And that was a really, really insightful thought right there. William's rubbing off on me. Obviously.

"And so you have finally returned Warden," the witch swaggers over and sneers. "You would be pleased to know that the demon held host within the fool of a child has remained dormant – likely due to the excessive use of its abilities, and its limited powers available to it through its host. However, it would not have remained idle _forever_." She sniffles.

I struggle to not roll my eyes, "Well, we have the sodding resources to deal with it now." I bite my lip – should I say it? Hmph. My newfound commander urges seem to outweighing my normal tendencies. "Two templars tagged along with the Circle mages – you might want to make yourself scarce." Well... she is an apostate.

"Ah," she makes to turn heel with her tattered skirts ruffling around her. "I believe I shall assume the shape of an eagle in that case." She huffs, "I will be in the wood until the Chantry fools have left." That... almost sounded reasonable. But, I guess she's above giving thanks for the heads up.

I enter the castle further in search of one of the noble shems, hopefully not the Orlesian, and spot the Bann – good.

"The Circle mages and templars are in the courtyard with the supplies needed for their ritual," I skip the pleasantries and stand before him. "If you could direct them to a place where they could prepare?"

He nods, "We can use the receiving room. There should be enough space in the main chamber." He bows slightly in an odd and unusual show of respect, "Thank you Warden Commander. We are in your debt."

* * *

The mages draw a large circle on the floor in silvery lyrium dust, and set a 'font' of lyrium – a bowl of liquid blue lyrium on a pedestal at one end of the circle. The First Enchanter comes towards me, "We can direct one mage to the plane of the Fade to... deal with the demon. I could travel myself, or... if you prefer another..."

I think he's smirking? "William?" I look towards the tall mage shifting his weight from one foot to another nearby. His gaze immediately snaps to mine, "Wanna kill a fu- demon?" I don't know if it's impolite to curse in front of the First Enchanter. I have some manners! I swear! Mamae tried to teach me in preparation of meeting Ducan... that never happened because she died.

"Aye," Willam walks up towards me and the shem Irving. His words steering me away from troubling thoughts. "I have experience with that lass."

I nod my head towards William while looking at Irving. "You have a volunteer."

He nods, "If you could step into the circle my boy? And be careful not to disturb the lyrium dust."

I furrow my brow and ask, "Don't you need Connor?" I did not call him shem or demon-child – that was difficult.

The shem Irving shakes his head, "We can sense the demon once we direct our energies in the font. It would be less dangerous this way – and the templars are on guard outside the boy's room as well in case things go... sour."

My lips thin into a line as I watch Irving take a spot beside the lyrim font and William steps into the circle drawn on the floor. I walk to stand beside Liana, Alistair, and the Orlesian, as Zevran and Oghren have taken a post by the hall from this chamber to the demon-child's room.

"It will all work out, mein Freund," Liana puts a hand on my shoulder, and I stiffen but don't move away despite the intrusion into my personal space. She's a friendly shem.

I nod, "Let's hope."

The four older mages put their hands into the liquid lyrium and start to chant in a language I don't recognize, "_Desiderium inest decidet. Inveniet eam adolescens magus_."

William closes his eyes, and the lyrium dust surrounding him on the floor begins to glow softly in an irridescent simmer. They continue their chant and I watch as his knees go weak. They buckle under his weight – and he sodding _falls_in a heap onto the floor as his legs give out and his head bounces off of the stone with a sharp _crack_. Fucking shit! I go to move towards him, because that had to hurt, but Liana grabs ahold of my armored arm to stop me. She shakes her head once, "You cannot disturb the spell." She looks at William's prone form with a slight grimace before meeting my gaze with her steel colored one. "But sweet daisies did that look like it hurt." I flaming agree. Hopefully the head injury doesn't affect whatever the sod all he's doing... they're doing.

I turn back to look at William, and his face is slightly pulled into a frown despite his unconsciousness. The other mages never stop their coordinated chanting, as I watch William's frown deepen with each passing second. His right hand twitches suddenly, and the glow around the circle intensifies for a moment before subsiding abruptly. What was that?

Moments later both his hands curl into fists, as the glow brightens, and the chanting increases in volume – something's happening. Is he fighting the demon? I watch with baited breath as the glow increases all the while his subtle body movements happen more and more – a twitch, a shake, a flicker.

When the glow gets nearly bright enough that I can't look at it anymore, it suddenly dims to nothing and William jolts upright as he takes in a harsh breath regaining himself. He groans and coughs, and he brings up a glowing hand to his temple – that fall _did_ hurt then.

"Did you kill it?" Sod the lyrim – with the chanting over I'll assume the spell's done with. I cross over to him with heavy steps of my armored boots.

From his place on the floor William looks up at me with a shaky, but proud smile. "Aye. The demon of Desire no longer has a hold on the wee lad."

I fall to the ground beside him and hug him to me – can't help it and I don't sodding care about the audience or the armor. It was difficult to just _standthere_, and I'm such a hugger. "You okay William?" I ask into his shoulder. I'm sure he's okay, but I'm just... checking.

"Nothing I couldn't handle lass," he replies as one of his arms goes around my shoulder.

"Good," I stand effortlessly despite my armor, mamae's training ensured I'd have free moment in heavy plate, and offer him a hand. "Let's go find his Orlesian mamae and tell her it's all sorted."

* * *

The Orlesian woman predictably starts to cry when we see her and rushes to her son's room. The templars had entered the room and stood watch during the ritual, as the fight with the demon distressed him some – it seems the boy was crying too. She's with him for quite some time, the templars standing just outside the door as the mother comforts her son. Those two templars seem to have a little more sense than the others. Enough to let a private moment be private.

She finally emerges the mages have packed their belongings from where they had readied the ritual. I had stayed in the room, and just... watched them for a bit. It was a little... entertaining despite the situation. "Connor does not remember a thing," the Orlesian noblewoman sniffles as she walks to the room's occupants. "Is the memory loss... normal?"

The shem Irving nods, "I would have expected as much – the demon was in control, while your son's mind was trapped within."

She frowns, "Will... will y-you take him to... the Circle?" She whispers the last, and I notice William tense from beside me. Probably _not_what he wants to hear. Void – I don't like the idea of it much either. The Circle isn't the safest place – for many, many reasons. Even in light of how well off these mages here seem to be, far more suffer. Just take William and Liana for example.

The older shem purses his lips together, "I'm afraid it is Chantry law, milady."

The Orlesian deflates with the information, "Would... it not be too much to ask that he's home for one more night?"

The First Enchanter purses his lips tighter, and looks towards one of the templars in the room, who slowly shakes his head in the negative. I guess they don't want to take any chances, or waste time with the way things are back at the Circle. "I'm afraid not, milady. However, we may stay for dinner before we leave. That should give you and your boy enough time to say your goodbyes and pack his belongings."

"A-as you say, First Enchanter."

* * *

The Bann asks that William and the other mages inspect the shem Arl, Eamon, as it was clear the demon was the reason he has not died from the poison William's former friend used on him. It's a question of whether he will now die that the demon's not involved.

I join them in the room as, well, I'm the commander and I want to know the sodding situation. The shit we've had to go through just for these shem troops...

William's the only Spirit Healer out of the lot, so he takes up examining the shem noble – running glowing hands just above the deathly pale man. The Arl's clothes and hair look unkempt, but otherwise he seems to be clean, almost healthy looking despite his color – just as if he's sleeping.

"Shiloh?" William calls to me as he looks up, "Could you find Zevran? I believe he's more knowledgeable about poisons. Perhaps he could identify what was used here?"

I nod and do as he asks, if the others are surprised at the lack of consideration on rank – well they can kiss my arse. What am I going to do? Yell at him for asking me to fetch the assassin? Pft.

I return with the Antivan, who is just _loving_all the need for his poison knowledge. William, Irving, Zevran, and even the other Enchanters talk in quiet voices as they discuss the bedridden shem. I don't really care about that conversation, more interested in what that'll mean for our troops, and so I stare blankly at the wall... imagining a certain man's... _boots_. I'm allowed an innapropriate thought every now and then! Even if it's not the best place in Thedas to do so.

"Shiloh?" Oops. How many times was William saying my name? Please let it be once. "Zevran has identified the poison as Andraste's Mercy."

I raise a brow, "And...?" I prompt. No idea what that is. My skills focus on killing with my hands and blade – nothing so... nefarious as poisons and traps. Straight forward violence. Just like Mamae taught me.

"It is a slow acting poison," the assassin fills in. "It will not kill the Arl, but he will not awaken. It keeps a man unconscious, and they eventually waste away, sí?"

I see the shem Bann stiffen at hearing these words, "Can Eamon be cured?"

Zevran shakes his head, "There is no cure that I know of. It is a slow death, hence its name. Merciful death would be kinder to the vicitms."

"He can be sustained," Irving is quick to interject. "If properly cared for, fed and watered – he can live."

"But he won't wake," the shem Bann adds as he connects the facts.

"What of Andraste's Ashes?" The Orlesian noblewoman adds from across the room. Huh. Did not see her there. "I have our knights searching for them – a man in Denerim, Brother Genitivi, has researched them. The Ashes should cure anything!"

"'_Should_'," William repeats. "Andraste's Ashes are myth."

"They are not!" The Orlesian counters passionately. "The Brother's research has been sponsored by us here for years. The accounts of the Ashes all say the same – just a pinch can cure anything! In the Brother's last letter, he detailed that he was close to finding their location. He found a pendant – a key to the Ashes. They exist!"

"When was last you heard from this shem?" I ask and shift my weight. "Shouldn't your knights have found the Ashes by now if they're real?"

The Orlesian stands from her chair and paces to her husband's beside, "His last letter was sent before Eamon was poisoned. The knights have sent letters that the Brother is still in Denerim – they are trying to find the Ashes for him."

"How do we know the Brother isn't just full of shit?" I ask, and the noblewoman recoils at my harsh language.

"He is a Brother of the Chantry!" She gasps. Like that makes a difference. "He would not lie in such matters! He has even sent us copies of his research!"

"Do you still have them?" William asks in a monotone.

"Yes!" The noblewoman nods her head enthusiastically. "I can show you them all – they are kept in my husband's office."

"Your husband is dying," I try to say easily. She may be a little naive, Orlesian, and noble, but I try to be sensitive to her situation. "These Ashes, if your knights can find them, may not cure anything." I look briefly at the nearby shem Bann. "His brother should be in charge." So we can get our men.

"I will take control of the Arling in my brother's stead for the time being," the Bann adds and looks towards me. "But perhaps after you and yours have examined the Brother's research, and we've ensured we have explored every possible avenue for my brother's recovery, you could aid in the search for the Ashes? Travel to Denerim and seek out the Brother, and ensure that our knights are doing all they can?"

My face creases. Is he ordering me around? Nuh-uh. "First off – William will look at the research only if he wants to. Secondly – I believe it's_your_business if _your_knights are following their orders. Thirdly – you heard the Antivan. There's no sodding cure. If you want to put your faith in pretend all-powerful Ashes, then that's all well and fine, but we're not doing anything we don't _have_to. You're more than capable of giving us our troups, _ActingArl_. There's a sodding _Blight_ on. Do you know what that means? I think a fucking Archdemon attacking the whole of Ferelden – of Thedas – is a bit more pressing than one noble shem's life." That was a sodding lot of words. I ranted.

"We won't give you troops unless you help to cure my husband," the Orlesian noblewoman sniffles defiantly. I feel my face crinkle in my easy-forming anger. Can I hurt her? Please?

I snarl, and struggle to temper my rage as I stomp over to the noblewoman – nose to nose (or chin cause I'm short). My snarl must be menacing enough despite the height difference, as she shrinks back some. "Do you know how much shit we've already done for your fucking family?! There's a Blight shem! What do you think will happen to your husband, your son, or your flaming arse when the darkspawn overwhelm us all?! Will any of this shit matter when you're being chewed on by an ogre?!"

"Shiloh. Love," William says soothingly to me with a hand on my neck. "I'll take a look at this 'research' and then we'll discuss what to do. Shouting may not be... the best tactic."

I snort and my hands unclench from my sides (when'd I clench them?), and I reluctantly nod before storming from the room as my rage fizzles. I fucking hate nobles.

* * *

I leave the castle all together, and go to the stables with Ward. Animals – they won't say dumbarse shit to me. Flames. The stables are... occupied.

"Shiloh!" Fuck – I was noticed. Curse my un-stealthy ways. Not a rogue. I turn and see as Liana excitedly runs towards me, "They have Dülmen Ponies!" Whatever that is. I was just trying to be alone and away from things that can piss me off...

"They're a Nevarran breed." The Orlesian's here too – Leliana. "Quite stocky looking. Not as graceful as Orlesian horses."

"One is named Fern!" Liana clasps her hands together. "He is so adorwa-wable. With his wittle ears and nose. Oh!" She grabs me by the armored arm and starts pulling, "I will show you!" Cheerfulness is starting to get annoying. Starting. I still let her drag me though. I think I might be missing Shianni dragging me around a bit.

The mage points to a shorter brown-colored horse – the chocolate of its coat matching that of her hair, "That one is Fern!" Then she points to the horse beside it, "And that one is Sunshine!" She's really excited about these.

"They have one named Apple!" The Orlesian calls over from further in the stables.

Liana giggles, "Was that William's nickname for you? _Petitepomme_?" She repeats in a rather odd attempt at an Orlesian accent.

"Yes, it is." The Orlesian walks over with pursed lips. She tilts her head at me, "Although I find it a bit... curious as to why he doesn't have a petname for you, Shiloh. He is... romantic with you, yes?"

I blink at her, "What do you mean?" Am I supposed to feel jealous over an Orlesian nickname given in jest? Really? 'Little Apple'?

"Oh!" Liana's hands fly to her cheeks. "All couples have cute little names for each other! When I was back in Nevarra I had a Smoochie Poo. He of course stoped being my Smoochie Poo as I had to leave. And I was no longer his Sweetie Pie." She pouts dramatically. What the fuck do I say to that? Smoochie Poo? Sweetie Pie?

"Err." This conversation is _really_weird. "I call him William. He calls me Shiloh, and sometimes lass."

"Those are not nicknames!" Liana insists. "Oh! Surprise him with one! Let's think..." She taps one thin, pale finger against her lips and then nods to herself. "Pumpkin!" She smiles pleased with herself.

I _really_need to get out of here. Idea! "I'm going to go check on Oghren..." I trail off and turn around. "Haven't seen him since William killed the demon. Don't want him breaking something expensive now!" I think I ran out of the stables. Ugh – shems.

* * *

William finishes looking over the research a little bit before dinner, yet after I've already helped myself to a tasting of the noble's wine in the cellar with Oghren and the Antivan. I'm not _quite_tipsy. I think. He calls me to meet with him in the Arl's office, as well as Alistair (reluctantly) and Liana. All us Wardens gathered for his findings.

"I think there's a good chance these Ashes are actually real," he starts and paces a little. "See these," he points to a few charts laid out on the desk. "They are cross-references of eye-witness accounts of the Ashes. There's trends, consistancies, over decades... And this amulet sketched here," he removes a smaller, more translucent sheet of parchment from a small stack. "The words inscribed are written in anchient Tevine, yet they're about Andraste – her name is detailed more than once here. If this Brother is to believed, the amulet also dates to the correct time..." He trails off and goes silent as he holds a few papers before himself clearly in thought.

"Do ya think we should go to Denerim and look for this shem?" I ask him.

He sighs. "Truthfully, I don't think we need the Redcliffe troops."

"We need the aid of a respected noble," Alistair grumbles. "If you have forgotten about Loghain's schemes – Eamon could help us put an end to them."

"There's a fucking civil war going on _and_a Blight," I start. "Wardens aren't supposed to get involved in political shit."

"Well the political matters are involving themselves with us," Alistair huffs. "The least we can do is check – we already have the treaties fulfilled."

I sigh, "Fine. But if we find out this guy's full of shit – we're going to another '_respectednoble_' for troops. Redcliffe can fuck themselves."

"How are we getting into the city," William asks lowly. "As the _templar_ pointed out... Loghain wants our heads."

"We could dress up!" Liana suggsts. "Wear disguises – costumes!"

I tilt my head at her. Not... a bad idea. "The shems can pretend to be nobles. The dwarves manservants and bodyguards. The elves... handmaiden and manservant." Ugh. "We can't risk being found out. The noblebitch can give us what we need to see to _her_husband." How much did I drink if I think this is the best idea we have right now?

* * *

Not enough. Armor is a big no no for a formal dinner, apparently. So the Orlesian noblewoman provided us with _acceptable_ clothing.

"I'm not wearing that," I back up slowly from the offending article of clothing, and turn to see both Liana and Leliana frowning at me. "It's not happening."

It happened. I hate Liana's frowny face – it's worse than Shianni's. So now I'm stuck in some low-cut _Orlesian_dress that's at least two sizes too big. Damn Isolde likes to show off her breasts – must be an Orlesian thing. I want my hose and tunic. This is fucked up.

I enter the dining hall with the other two women, as the witch is still out as an eagle due to the templars, and... I _really_hate Liana's frowny face. I feel exposed – too many men are staring at my tits. Zevran (I glare at), Oghren (I move my hands in a quick dwarven insult I picked up from him – cause he's a great teacher), Alistair's blushing (so I assume he didn't stare and only peeked), the Bann, templars and Senior Enchanters are pointedly looking away (good), and... William. Despite my armor, since fighting that demon he's been... staring. Smoldering really. I want to drag him to my room and let him look all he wants, but I'm hungry. Damned Warden appetite.

I sit next to him in my seat with about as much grace as a warrior can muster, which isn't much, and disturb the dress that's only being held on my body by a too tight half-corset. One of the sleeves threatens to fall off my shoulder, but I quickly catch it and right it before something embarrassing can happen. I'm so very much blushing, and I'm in a sodding Orlesian dress! Fucking girl I am. The dress even stinks like an Orlesian noble. Ugh. Flowery perfume...

"You look ravishing lass," William leans over and whispers to me. I think that smile makes this horrid dress a tiny bit better. I still hate it though.

Isolde takes that moment to stand and clears her throat, "With all the tragedy that has befallen the Arling recently," like your son making a deal with a demon and killing dozens of people. "It is nice to take a moment and enjoy a meal in good company. And my son, Connor – his life has been saved by you Grey Wardens. This meal is in your honor. Thank you Commander, Wardens, and those of the Circle of Magi that have come to our aid. You must be blessed by the Maker himself. May Andraste guide you in all your endevors." She holds up a goblet of wine and we all share in the toast. I could use more drink.

I'm on my third goblet of wine and second helping of this fucking good meat pie, completely happy to ignore the table's conversation, when I notice William talking to the shem boy Connor. Huh.

"If you have the aptitude for it, which I'm sure you do, I've asked Senior Enchanter Leorah to tutor you. She was my tutor before Irving."

"Is she... nice?" The shem boy asks William. How can William talk? I'm flaming starving! Isn't he hungry too? I need more pie. And wine.

"Aye. You can trust each of the Enchanters here. They're all good sorts. They'll look after you laddie."

I see the boy play with one of his forks. Which there is a sodding lot of. I don't very well care if I'm using a salad fork for meat – a fork is a fork. Why have so Blighted many? "You won't... be there?" The boy asks after a moment.

I raise a brow. The shem boy has befriended William now? I hear William sigh a bit, "No, I won't. I'm a Warden – we're to fight the Blight. My place is not with the Circle any longer."

"Oh," the boy sounds sad. I steel a glance at him – he's very much frowning. Poor former demon-child. His frowny face is almost as bad as Shianni and Liana's combined.

"Connor," his mother puts a hand on his shoulder from beside him, "Why don't you take this time to speak with your uncle? You may not see him... for some time." Oh. The Orlesian noblewoman sounds sad now. Too bad she's a bitch, and I don't care. About her. The boy... I'm a _little_ concerned about. He's being sent to the fucking Circle. That's fucking horrible.

* * *

"Make sure you watch after yourself now," William is addressed by the First Enchanter as we all stand in the courtyard as the mages prepare to file into the caravan. The Orlesian noblewoman has already spent all her tears, and is now currently clinging to her son and mumbling nonsense in Orlesian as they get ready to depart. "I would hate to hear of something terrible happening to you William."

"Aye, same for me Irving," William replies. "But the Blight isn't something that can be easily dealt with."

The older shem nods, "Of course. And with everything else happening in Ferelden, it wouldn't surprise me if you come into trouble more often than not. Especially if you seek to cure the Arl."

"We've already gathered an army. Our forces just need time to ready themselves, then we'll be set for the Blight." Like recovering from a blood mage uprising, lycanthropy, and making a shit load of lyrium bombs.

The old shem nods and wishes William well once more and turns towards me, "Commander." He bows slightly. "I will speak to the Knight-Commander and we will ensure that our forces are prepared when the call comes."

"I would like it if our numbers were stronger still," we don't even have as many men as there were at Ostagar – but with the skill of the forces we have so far it almost equates. We still need sodding more for me to feel better about it. "But you should hear from us once we're ready." Heh. That was pretty good considering I've had... some wine.

"As you say Commander. May the Maker bless you with his favor."

He turns to speak to the noblewoman, and I watch as William's former elven tutor hugs him in a teary-eyed goodbye. It's kinda funny... and sweet. I guess after William was taken away from his parents, Leorah and Irving took up their places. They're the closest things he has to a mother and father. I don't know if he'd admit to that though, but I can tell he's close with them both.

All the mages gather into the caravan after a few moments more, Irving with Connor in hand, and then they're gone. William doesn't look very happy with their taking of Connor, if the way he was watching the shem boy was any indication, but we've done all we can for the boy. If it wasn't for us he would have been dead – or a lot more people would be dead along with him.

* * *

Those of us more inclined to steal, or borrow, the noble's liquor, soon find outselves in the cellar doing just that. That's Oghren, Zevran, and myself. Surprise, surprise.

"I thought you said you were... visiting that stableboy?" I say to the assassin. He's rifling through the brandy as I try to wrestle Oghren away from the rum. It's mine dammit!

"Hmm," he blinks towards me. Zevran didn't get forced into anything so... frilly. He was allowed to wear his normal tunic. It's not fair. "Oh I am. That would be why I'm choosing a drink, sí?"

"You're worse than some people I know," I mutter while using my modicum of height to my advantage in snaching the good rum away from the dwarf, and then making to dash away quickly. "If anyone disturbs me tonight – Holly will hurt you!" I threaten and then run off as quickly as I can while ensuring I don't trip and fall on my face due to the dress. I have wonderous plans, and a bed. And I do believe I'm smirking.

William's room... Ah. There it is. I can feel his telltale thrum through the door. I look around quickly and see no one else in the hall, not that they would've stopped me, and turn the doorhandle without knocking to enter. I think I made a sound that I should be embarrassed about at the sight that greets me, but I can't be bothered to care as I kick the door shut with one foot and fiddle to lock it one-handed without looking.

I hug William from behind as soon as I'm able, one hand still holding the rum bottle, and sigh into his back. He's bent over taking off his boots _shirtless._We haven't... praised our Maker since that night... so many nights ago. And I've wanted to jump him at every opportunity. I'm not sodding joking. His _boots – _need I say more? Why does traveling have to be so dangerous, and some people so nosy? The Blight is far, far more important... but I've had a little to drink and I don't want to spoil my own mood, so let's not think about the Blight. Let's think about ripping an Orlesian dress of my body, drinking rum, and getting my man to establish his cannon. That would be so much sodding better than worring about darkspawn. Those thoughts can bother me later – right now I'm thinking about William. The weird shem I love. Even if I don't say or think it every other second, I do. Very much. It's a weird feeling that I'm not very used to. It's warm... and nice. I'm not quite sure if I could've made it as long as I have without him – both for his healing and constant moral support. For his presence. For who he is. I fight the Blight to protect _him_ – to protect those I care about. And I'm pretty damned sure I'm smiling at this as I hug him.

I nuzzle into the skin on his back before kissing it and turning my face enough to say, "I have rum," in a sing-song tone of voice.

He chuckles and I feel it warm through me, "And you've already helped yourself to it?" I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Nope," I pop the 'p' at the end as I release him to walk away and sit on the edge of his bed. I've only had wine. I grin at him widely, and he watches as I open the bottle. I down a good mouthful of the light-colored liquid, licking the residue from my lips afterwards. I see his eyes follow my tongue. "Want some?" I tease and shake the bottle a little. He quickly kicks off his shoes and stockings (and the weird things that hold them up). I guess he doesn't want to worry about darkspawn either. Or templars. Or anything else that we deal with on a near daily basis. I can't help but loose a very girly giggle as one of his hands wraps around mine on the bottle, the other on my neck as he eagerly meets his lips with mine his beard scratching as he does so.

My free arm wraps around his middle, and I use my strength to pull him towards me as I move to lay back on the bed – and keep my lips firmly pressed against his. I break away from the kiss and yelp when some of the cool rum spills over my bared shoulder (since the dress is sodding big, the sleeve keeps falling). William doesn't hesitate to lick the rum from my shoulder with little nips that make me sigh. He's so... wonderful. He backs off just enough to bend and put the rum on the floor (pity that), but soon enough his lips are back on my shoulder causing little tingles to flit through my entire body. I wrap one leg around his, bringing us that much closer together and he groans into my skin.

"Undress me," I whisper into his ear and he shudders before helping me to sit up on the edge of the bed again. He takes a moment to look down at me as he stands firmly between my knees. I'm pretty damned sure that my face is as red as a tomato as I watch his gaze travel from my bared thighs, due to the rucked up dress, my exposed chest and rum-dampened breastband. Then his sapphire-colored eyes are meeting my paler ones, and I can see the love and heat there. I shiver slightly, not because I'm cold, and I have the urge to rub my thighs together but he's standing between them. Sodding fuck. I have to grasp the edge of the bed to keep from dragging him down atop of me again too. William smirks, and he can so tell what his damned eyes do to me. Then he reaches out with both hands to painstakingly untie the cropped corset as I had asked him to. When it's loose enough, the too large dress falls to pool at my elbows and waist. I will _never_tire of seeing the reverence there in his gaze when he looks at me – my very pronounced muscles and small breasts being looked at with such a smoldering look of awe. How am I even thinking let alone _not_touching him right now? Really?

I take my hands out of my sleeves and move to unclasp my breastband, but he stills my hands with a soft tsk. "You told me to undress you, Shiloh. Let me," oh his voice. His lips and deep accent saying my name. Okay – do whatever the fuck you want. Not going to argue.

He kisses the back of one of my hands before dropping them at my sides, to free his own to pinch at the small metal clasps holding my breastband together. He grunts in frustration after the first two failed attempts, and I laugh softly. Those damned things give me trouble sometimes too. I bend forward, my cloth bound chest pressed against his, to give his arms a better angle. He eventually unclasps the fabric, and I kiss and lick his chest a little in reward for the freedom of our skin touching without restrictions. For the most part – below the waist we're both still flaming clothed. He seems all too aware of this too, and takes a small step backwards before kneeling on the rug-covered floor between my legs. His long hands reach to the edge of the dress, and slip far enough to grasp the edges of my smalls too. He pulls them down, and I wriggle on the bed to help him as he removes them. _Finally_.

When I'm naked before him, he stills with his warm hands on my knees and breathes heavily through his flared, straight nose. His eyes are so dark and hooded that I can barely see the brilliant color at their edges. And he's staring at my bared cunt right before him. Holy shit. That look alone sends a jolt _rightthere._I think I whimpered, but it's good because it spurs him into action. One of his hands slides up my thigh, then my side, and finally cups my small breast. He pinches at my nipple with the slightest tingle of his magic, and I gasp suddenly with a death-grip on the edge of the bed. His head bends at the same time as he pinches, and he hums against my sex as he kisses the pulsing little nub there softly. He's a little quicker to move this time – not much attention to my breasts. It's been... a few days. More than a few days. Go as fast as you want William – I'm not going to complain. Nope.

"You smell so good lass," he mumbles against my sensitive skin. Flaming fucking -

"William," I whimper again. I'm trying so hard to stay still it's fucking ridiculous. I want him to enjoy himself though. I know things haven't been easy for him lately. Not with the shit at the Circle. Oh. Let's not think about that either right now. "Wi-"

I'm cut off from saying his name, it turning into a loud moan as he runs his tongue down the length of my slit, as I'm sitting at the very edge of the bed. Sodding fuck. I don't know how long I can stay sitting like this. My strength seems to be failing me. Nope – can't do it. I flop back onto the soft bed with a gasp as his tongue pushes more insistently against me and that little pulsing point. His hands grasp my thighs, completely abandoning my breasts, as he brings me closer still to his mouth. His beard is scratching lightly, and he slips his lighning infused tongue further in me than he had before. Oh I don't even know what sounds I'm making. I'm holding onto the bed as that wonderful and still new tingling pressure that only he can cause, so different than anything I can do, builds with every flick of his tongue and every nudge of his nose at my nub. How is he breathing? Why am I thinking about that? My legs wrap around his shoulders with my knees on top. I don't sodding well care. Just don't stop doing that.

The pressure low within me builds, the tingling pulsing rapidly through my veins, my legs, my spine arching – then my vision is blackening in dancing dots as my mouth opens and body shakes. I'm not quite sure what I just said. Sodding Maker's shit that lightning trick is delicious.

My eyes flutter open (I guess I closed them), and I see William wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and a smug look on his face. Fuck William. Oh – I said that aloud because his smirk just got wider. I allow myself a small smile too, before I breath withoug thought, "I love you." It's so nice how easily that comes when I say it and in my thoughts. I love it. I love him. Heh. He stands and bends over me to kiss me, and I push my tongue into his mouth eagerly and hum as his tongue slides against my own.

"I love you too Shiloh," he whispers as we part. My hands rub through his loose hair, and two of his damnable fingers softly twist the tip of one of my ears causing shivers down my spine. I move my knees up and rest my feet at the back of his own knees, as I move my hands gently down his slim sides to the edge of his kilt. It's fucking coming off.

I start to move it down his arse, and his lips move to nibble my neck. I get it down as far as I can laying like this, but it's still not far enough. I make a frustrated noise in the back of my throat and he chuckles against me.

"Here. Let me lass," he stands up again, as I'm still on the edge of the bed, and I take my legs off of his in anticipation. He pulls both his kilt and smalls off quickly and steps out of them. I notice I'm biting my lip when it starts to throb in pain. Fuck William again. Hmm. I think I'm going to do that. I sit up using one hand to support me, as I reach out with the other to grasp his hand. I pull him closer to me, wrap that arm around his waist, and kiss his chest right above his heart as I sit fully up. His cock is pressed against my stomach, and it feels _sogood_. I love this shem. I start to kiss and lick my way down his chest, and he sighs and rubs one hand at my back as the other grabs my breast. He moves both hands to my chest when I reach his navel – squeezing and pinching the entire time. And he sodding groans when I dip my tongue right there, and lick down that indent to the dark hair gathering right below. Suddenly one of his hands is under my chin, and he's pulling my face up to look at him. Hmm? I was busy. And not done. Your cock is right there.

"I-" he seems to choke on his words and pauses to take a deep breath. What... what's wrong? Did I do something wrong? His face... he looks troubled. "I can't... Not that lass." Oh shit. I'm such an idiot. He told me – I'm an idiot. Fuck. I hate me.

"Shit – I'm so sorry," I try to soothe and run my hands up his chest gently. He still looks... upset. I hold his gaze as I say, "We... can stop." If he wants to stop – we'll sodding well stop. I care about him too much to... I can't even flaming think that. No.

He shakes his head, and bends to place a gentle kiss on my lips. "I want you Shiloh. Just not... not that."

I nod. I fucking hate templars. And I'm a little surprised that he can do as much as he can with me. That he has with me. Then again... I'm pretty damned sure his abusers were all men. I fucking hate shems. Not William, but you know... The ones that abuse their power and hurt the helpless – which encompasses a pretty sodding large lot of them. I wrap my hands around William's neck, and he takes the hint and bends to kiss me again. Good. I slowly move to lay back, and he follows me as I do so. It seems he was being truthful, as his cock is still hot against my thigh. I wrap my legs around his hips, his feet are still firmly on the rug, and run my hands along his ribs in slow, soft circles. We kiss for some time – gently, lazily. And finally he relaxes. He seems to slump against me, his hands on the curve of my hips, and he sighs against my lips.

William pulls back and gives me the smallest of smiles. "I love you," he whispers as he moves one hand from my hip to his cock. He pushes just slightly against my entrance as he stands between my splayed legs on the edge of the bed, and it's my turn to sigh. Don't sodding stop. He pushes in slowly, just like last time, as I'm still not quite used to... this. There's only a slight discomfort, no pain this time, and he stops once he's completely steated in me. He rubs his hands up and down my middle, as it's now my turn to try and relax. After a moment, William bends at the waist and kisses my chin, and that's enough for my muscles to loosen. I was a little tense dispite the liquor. I'm sure things will be easier next time. I return a kiss to his cheek, and thrusts just slightly within me. He does so again, with a little more force, and gasp as he groans deeply. Don't stop. His hands move to my hips to raise me a bit to better fit him, as he's sodding tall as he's standing, and I wrap my legs tighter on him to hold this position. It doesn't take him long after that to give in to his desires, to what he needs, and he seems to loose himself in the feel of me. It's a sodding gorgeous thing to see. His hair starts to stick to his skin in tendrils as a sheen of sweat covers him, his dark gaze locked to mine and occasionally closing, and his face pinched in pleasure. The sight is almost as good as the feeling. And it fucking feels _good_ dammit. I hope it feels just as good to him. My hands are on his forearms, as he's still holding my hips, and each time the tingling pressure increases, so does my grip. I'm muttering incoherently by the time I just _loose_myself to feeling – to _him_. William. This amazing shem. I fall over the edge this time with no help from the lightening trick – all due to him. I fucking _feel_it when he does too. The warmth – literally and not. I can't even describe just how sodding good this feels – to be like this with William. If I was another woman, I might even flaming cry.

Still, when we come back to ourselves there might be tears in the corners of my eyes. Not that I'd ever admit to it aloud. He gives me a sloppy kiss when I think he notices this, and is reluctant to move from me. Heck, I don't very well want to move either. He finally does though, as I can't manage to keep my legs on his hips, and for the first time this night he comes to lay fully onto the bed beside me. I curl up to him instantly and he curls around me. This is so good. How come I kinda want him to fuck me again? We just did... is this a weird Grey Warden thing? Like the hunger, strength, and agility. The taint... makes you have more stamina? Didn't I hear that before... It seems William's exhausted though – he did a lot today. Killing demons and all. He's falling asleep, and mutters that he loves me when he finally does. I watch him for a bit, and trace the dark green tattoos on his forehead lightly with a finger. There's a few scars there. Those tattoos cover them well. He shouldn't even have to have them in the first place. How he can do this for me? For him. For us – I don't know. I know this is difficult for him. Don't I. But I can't... not _want_ him. One selfish thing I'll allow myself – William.

I pull the edge of the blanket that we're laying on and cover us as best I can before I lay my head down heavily and just... look at him. Usually I'm the first to fall asleep. This is different. Nice. I hope it happens again.

* * *

I wake up with a slight shiver despite the blanket – the snow will come in earnest soon. Damned weather. And I roll to my right looking for William's warmth in my half-awake state. Except I don't find him. My eyes pop open quickly with worst case scenarios running through my mind (assassins, darkspawn, demons), as I scan the large bed and don't see him. I sit up quickly, the blanket falling off of me and half off the bed with my quick movement, and I turn my head until I do see William. He's sitting by the fireplace in a wooden chair with a book in his lap, dressed in his Grey Warden robes, and openly smiling toothily at me. Hmph. William's fine then. _He_ doesn't seem worried. He seems really... happy actually.

I raise a brow at him, "G'morning to you too William." Oh... my voice is rough first thing in the morning. Hopefully he doesn't take that as me being pissy...

"Good morning lass." He smiles even wider and puts the book on the table beside him before crossing the room towards me. He took that right then.

William leans over me and gives me a chaste kiss while brushing his fingers through my short hair with a gloved hand. "Leliana stopped by not too long ago to say that the morning meal will be served shortly, but I didn't want to wake you."

I sigh and lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Been too long since I've slept in one comfortably. And _never _have I slept in one so soft. The dwarven beds weren't exactly... fluffy. I suddenly feel one of William's bare hands on my muscled stomach, and I bend my head to peer up at him. He must've taken off his glove then. And I'm still naked. Oh – a... devious idea just came to mind. I smirk at him as I arch my stomach into his hand. "Want a little something before breakfast?"

His gaze flickers from my body to my face, and I can see him toy with the idea based on the twitch of his lips and way his eyes narrow before he shakes his head. Shame. "We need to be off soon Shiloh." He sighs. "Denerim is roughly a week's journey one way. We should leave sooner rather than later."

I reluctantly nod and sit fully up again as I move to cross my legs at the ankles on the bed, to which William's face twitches, and I say, "We're going with Liana's idea, right? Does the Orlesian nobleshem know she's fronting the clothes?"

* * *

For a woman that recently lost her son to the Circle due to a demon inhabiting his body and killing a shit load of people, and whose husband is in a poison-induced sleep, she was surprisingly thrilled at the prospects of providing us with what we'd need to get into the city. Probably because we're doing for her sodding subborrness over her noble husband. Then again, if William were in a similar boat I probably would put my faith in _possibly _real mythical Ashes of a dead woman too. Hmm... Was I just understanding about an Orlesian noblewoman? Sodding fuck – I'm getting soft about shems.

We pack up Bodahn's cart with the boxes of clothes, shoes and all, and some cosmetics that the Orlesian provided for the 'nobles' of our group. We decided (I reluctantly) that William and Liana were to pretend to be a noblecouple from Nevarra (though William will be 'married in' due to his accent) and Alistair and Leliana would be Orlesian nobles (Leliana stated that she could get Alistair in character by the time they need to play their parts). Now Liana's paired with William, cause Liana knows William, and not Alistair. And since she's learned that Alistair was a templar recruit, she's understandably a little... wary around him. Still cheerful though, but I didn't want to see the woman uncomfortable. Morrigan said something scathing that meant that she didn't want in on this – as she thought this whole nonsense with Genitivi was pointless. She agreed to stay as a bird in the wood as we 'acted like fools'. Zev and I would be elven servants – no surprise there. Oghren a dwarven bodyguard, along with Ward – but he's a mabari. Bodhan and Sandal would just do what they always do.

Once we were all settled and restocked, as much as we could due to the sorry state of the villiage, we set off for Denerim. For home. Sodding shit – my _family_'s there. That's both good, and bad, and... shit. I need to talk to William.

* * *

Our first day of walking was... long. I don't know about the others, but in our one-day break I was spoiled due to the lack of walking. Also my thoughts probably made the walk longer for me. I... think I need to tell William the whole story. I think I need to tell him about Nelaros.

I'm pretty sure William can sense the anxiety rolling off of me in waves when I enter our tent long after we've set camp for the night. His face is pinched in concern, although he's trying his hardest not to. I sit down heavily next to him after kicking off my boots harshly. I don't even try to paw at him, which is quite a telling sign that I have something on my mind.

He sits up and faces me as he asks, "Is something wrong Shiloh?"

Shit... I don't want to worry him, but... how do I even sodding start this? I use my left hand to tuck my hair behind my ears as I look in my lap trying to think of _something_. Haven't I thought enough about this today? Why can't I fucking speak? It's William for Maker's sake! I can tell him anything. Yes, yes I can. I look up towards him, the concern very blatant on his features and I exhale loudly. "Remeber when I told you about the nobleshem I murdered?"

I blinks and jolts a little in shock at my words. Doesn't seem he was expecting that. He nods slowly, "Yes... What's this about lass?"

I wave my hand slightly, "I'll get to that. But... you remember. So..." I swallow. Of course he remembers. We just spoke about it a little not too long ago. "The noble was the Arl of Denerim's son." He blinks rapidly and opens his mouth to say somthing, but I continue before he can. I'm being blunt – it's the only way I can handle this. "He's not important. What I want to say is," I make sure he's looking at me when I say this. "He kidnapped me and my friends on my wedding day."

His mouth hangs open as his eyes widen, and the silence that overtakes us is deafening. I fight to keep my mouth pinched shut in order to give him time to think on it – it's not every day you find out the woman you're involved with was engaged. Even if it was arranged. William has to look away from me and rakes a hand through his hair, and I catch a look of blind panic flash across his face. Oh shit. Why's he look like that? "Y-you're," his voice cracks and he still can't look at me. "You're married." He sounds so broken. Shit! That's not... shit!

I put a hand on his closest to me, and hurry to say, "William – look at me." He does after a heartwrenching moment and meets my eyes with great reluctance. Shit. I seriously hate me. He looks so, so upset. "I'm not married." He shakes his head in disbelief and I hurry to think of something, "I was a virgin, remember? You're my first." That seems to quell him for the moment, and I hurry on. "My betrothed... died before we could finish our vows. The noble arse-face," I see his nose crinkle at that, "came in with men in the middle of the Chantry Mother's words and took all the women from my wedding party – including me. I tried to stop him, but... I was in a sodding wedding dress."

I take a deep breath and continue on before I loose my nerve. William lets me, "I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up – I was in a locked room in the Arl of Denerim's estate with my cousin Shianni, my bridesmaids, and my other cousin's bethrothed." His hand turns around under mine, and he threads his fingers through my own as I recall the painful events. "The guards came in... and just took everyone. They saved me for last, because they said I was a 'fighter'." I can't help but snort. "My cousin, Soris, came in then – he and... Nelaros," I whisper the dead man's name. "Fought their way through the guards to try and save us. No one else was going to fucking help. Soris passed me a sword – the guards laughed... and I killed them." I break away from William's gaze and hang my head, "We – we were too late to regroup with Nelaros. The shems killed him. He died trying to save me. He... it was our wedding day. I saw him die."

The silence that threatens to consume us is broken this time by William, as he wraps his long fingers under my chin and brings my watery gaze to meet his own. I don't think I'll ever sodding get over someone giving their _life _for my wellbeing. William's entire expression is nothing but sympathetic as he asks softly, "Did you love him lass?"

I shake my head, "No. We-we were betrothed. I didn't even meet him until a little bit before the actual ceremony. My father arranged the marriage. That's how people are married in the alienages – betrothals. My parent's own wedding was arranged." I'm guessing he doesn't know much about how things are done in the alienages.

He nods and moves his fingers from my face, "Thank you for telling me Shiloh."

I frown, "I-I'm not done. I want to tell you it all." I take a deep breath. "Soris and I managed to steal weapons – and we killed all the guards we could find. Neither of us were wearing armor – I got hurt more than him though cause Soris uses a shield, and I... I wasn't in a good place. And in a fucking dress." I grumble. "That's... what you healed when I met you." I shake my head and get back on track, "The -" I have to pause. This is... difficult. And I'm pretty sure I'm about to cry. "Vaughan and his two friends had... my c-cousin. Sh-shianni. They..." I have to wipe at my eyes with my free hand. "When I got there they had already stripped her, and... they raped her." I'll sodding say it. I'll be blunt. I'll be truthful. Honest. I can barely see William through my teary-eyes, so I don't know what he's flaming well thinking. "I sodding killed them. I gave them no mercy. I killed them for her. I killed them because I wanted to. She... She was seventeen William. She was still a girl!" I'm openly crying now, and William just bundles around met to hold me as close as he can.

I finish the story with a watery voice and my face half pressed into his shoulder. "They would've raped us all. They would have killed us all after. The guards came later... Looking for the murderer. I surrendered – I didn't want anyone to be hurt. I couldn't see anyone else get hurt because of me... Duncan was there. He conscripted me. He saved me from hanging."

William held me until I calmed. I'm usually... not so emotional. But William brings it out in me. I can be open with him. I know I can. I love him – he loves me. He whispers that and more into my hair as he rocks slowly from side to side as we comfort each other. I don't mention anything when I feel his own tears wet my hair – I only hold him tighter. This was too close to what... happened to him. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. Maybe I should've let it be. It's... it's too late now though. I've already flaming said it all.

I pull back after a time and run one of my hands through his loose hair. "My father," I voice one of my fears. "I think I broke his heart. He only ever tried to do right by me, and I was... ungrateful. And then... I left him." I sigh and kiss William's cheek. "I-I want you to meet him. I want you to meet everyone. I left, but I found you." I smile softly, uncharacteristically. "Will you meet Adda?"

William chews on his bottom lip a bit, his face still a bit red and blotchy from all that just happened, and nods after a moment. "If you want me to Shiloh. I'll..." he gulps. "I'll meet your father."

I hug him again and lay my head just under his chin, "Great. I'm glad." A thought occurs to me after a moment and I can't help but chuckle softly, "It might be... a little weird. Cause you're a shem."

* * *

Wolves and more wolves. Again. Why do they always want to eat us? And not just any wolves – wolves infected with the Blight's taint. Their fur matted and rotted, spikes of fragmented bone and black ichor sprouting from their coats, and a mad desire for violence and dominance that rivals that of any normal wolf. Seriously William's rubbing off on me – do you see my thoughts? They're almost poetic as I'm gutting one of the Blighted wolves with a bone-crushing swipe of Holly.

I withdraw my blade only to feel the ground quake from behind me. I turn and am met with the sight of not one, but _three _sodding Blighted bears. _Huge_ ugly fuckers. And... one of them has just charged the orange blur that's Liana. Shit! Why's she alone?! Didn't I tell her to stick with the other long-range fighters?

I go to charge after her as I shout orders for Oghren and Alistair to focus on the other two bears. An alpha wolf takes advantage of my distraction and blindsides me during my charge. I fall to the ground, and only have enough time after my fall to bring one of my arms up to block the wolf's snap at my more vulnerable neck. The wolf starts to glow with an eerie orange iridescence and whimpers before its neck snaps back – crushing vertebrae and killing the wolf instantly. The glow intensifies and I turn my head to watch through the slits in my helm as the glow travels to the prone form of Liana. It spreads out into a shimmering blanket of magic above her to flit down and absorb into her flesh. What the sod all kind of magic was that? She gasps and sits up suddenly with a deafening scream aimed at the taint-stricken bear looming over her. She raises her staff and touches the orbed end to the bear's chest. The same orange glow covers the bear at the same time a swirling vortex of blue energy surrounds the beast. The bear cries out in obvious pain as it stomps its feet in place – totally at the mercy of whatever Liana is doing to it. Blood and fluids ooze from every orifice on the bear only to coalesce in both the orange and blue energies around it. The bear's body eventually becomes a husk of what it was – like charred meat. It's dry, brittle looking and laying in a dead lump at Liana's feet. I watch transfixed as the orange and blue magics flatten and absorb into Liana's body. She looks refreshed after. She's even sodding smiling. What the fuck was that?

I look around and see that the others have taken care of the other two bears and the remaining wolves scattered about. I rip off my helmet as I go to stand and walk over to the now standing Nevarran mage.

"Liana!" I shout her name as I stomp over. She's bouncing on her toes still smiling widely.

"That was exciting!"

I frown, "You didn't follow orders, and nearly got yourself killed!" I feel a muscle jump in my jaw and she frowns. "You're on clean-up duty for the rest of this trip. Don't fucking do that again! When I tell you to stay by the witch and Orlesian you better damned well do so!"

William walks up beside me with his arms crossed against his chest and a sour look on his face as he looks at the shem woman too, "Wie lange waren Sie planen versteckt, dass Sie ein Mortalitasi sind?"

"William," I ground out. I'm still a _little _pissed. "What'd you ask her?" I can tell it was a question by the inflection in his voice.

"That wasn't normal magic she used," William turns towards me. "She's been trained as a Mortalitasi – a Death Mage. I've only ever read bits and pieces about them. They're a secretive order of mages only found in Nevarra."

"And that's different than the blood magic she used?" I raise a brow.

"Blood magic?!" Alistair near screeches. Ow. Ears.

"A blood mage then?" The witch steps forward too with a cruel smile on her lips. "I daresay the Nevarran twit has just become far more interesting."

"She's not a blood mage anymore!" I snap glaring at my fellow Warden and the witch. "She swore off it when I recruited her."

"That's why you couldn't broker a deal with a demon for the blood magic," William steps towards Liana. Who's been abnormally silent while we've discussed her. "I thought I've read once that a Mortalitasi's soul has to be their own for their magic to work properly. You prepare corpses once a soul departs, and must have a free spirit to guide it."

"Oh sweet buttercups," Liana sighs and shakes her head. "Diejenigen, die nicht Mortalitasi haben sehr wenig Verständnis." She looks between us quickly as she twists her hands together nervously. "It is true. I am Mortalitasi. Well... almost. I never took my final vows." She hangs her head, "I had to hide it when I was transferred to Ferelden, or face death. We are sworn to secrecy. And the Grand Mortalitasi is very, very mean about it." She looks at William, "You are mostly somewhat pretty much correct." She purses her lips, "I can say that we cannot offer our souls to demons. It is impossible. That is why I had to learn the blood magic from someone who already had."

"You didn't _have_ to learn blood magic," I snort.

"True," she frowns. "But I could not reveal the Death Magic or face death from the templars, since they do not understand. And if they did not kill me, then the other Mortalitasi would. And... if the templars found out about the blood magic, I would have been very, very dead too." She hugs herself. "I just wanted to live! Everyone was so mean! It wasn't my fault I was transferred! I wanted to be Mortalitasi!"

I furrow my brow. That's... complicated. A lot of people had it out for her. But... "Why were you transferred?"

She sighs and looks at her feet, "I guess I should tell you. You saved me after all. But pretty poppy fields it is not a nice story." She chews on her lip and looks up at me, "Mortalitasi are trained in politics too – we are advisors. My tutor was a mundane – a nobleman. He-he tried to do not so nice things to me. A few times. I told one of the Senior Mortalitasi – and he did not believe me. My tutor was so angry at me when he found out what I had said, that he went all the way to the Grand Necropolis to speak with the Grand Mortalitasi himself!" She takes a deep breath before speaking again. "One of my early tutors, Senior Mortalitasi Wanda, knew the First Enchanter here – and convinced the Grand Mortalitasi to transfer me rather than imprison me in the crypt for spreading scandal and slandering a nobleman." She shivers, "The crypt is the creepiest of the creepy. I had to go in there a few times before, but all the dead bodies are not the very best company."

I shake my head at everything she said. Fucking nobleshems. "Any other secrets we should know about?"

She shakes her head rapidly in turn, "No! I promise – you know everything now! I owe you my life. I would not lie to you, Shiloh." She smiles, "We are bestest friends in the whole of Thedas! Bestest friends cannot keep secrets!" She smiles again – back to cheerful-Liana. Good. But... I'm not sure about 'bestest friends in the whole of Thedas'. I'll let her have that one though. This girl's been through some shit.

* * *

We make camp far away from all the bloated, taint-infected animal corpses sometime later. I'm in the middle of making toasted cheese sandwiches, before both the cheese and bread go hard, when William sits next to me with that black leather-bound book he was given to hold back in the Circle. It has what looks like a dead tree on the cover.

"Any luck with that?" I know he's been trying to decipher it since he noticed he had left it in his satchel after the Enchanter gave it to him.

"No. Not a word." He sighs and opens it again to read by the firelight. Or try to anyway.

Alistair sits across from us, but I see William stiffen even before the man has approached the fire. He doesn't say anything though... so that's some progress. He just keeps on trying to read.

"Shiloh." Alistair calls my attention as I'm slicing bread. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Hmm... Interesting. "You can ask."

"Right. Well," he takes a deep breath. "I think I have a half-sister."

I look up at him with a raised brow. "Other than your kingly half-brother?"

He nods rapidly. "From my mother. I... found some files awhile back. Her name's Goldanna, and I've been able to find that she lives in Denerim. Near the market district."

Brow still raised. "And the favor?" Spill it out man.

"I-I was wondering if I could visit her? We'll be in Denerim soon..."

I purse my lips together a moment before I answer. "I'm sure we'll have some time. Either before or after talking to this Brother Genitivi. I wanted to visit my family too."

"Great!" I'm not sure if his smile is forced or not, but he groans. "Now I just have to think of something to say..."

"How about, 'hello. I'm your bastard baby brother! I almost hunted mages for a living, and now I hunt darkspawn!'" William doesn't look up from his book when he says that.

I push on William's shoulder a little bit. "Play nice," I remind him.

"Good. Grey Wardens, you are here." We all collectively look up when the Orlesian walks over with her hands twisted together. "I have been thinking about what Liana had said earlier. About secrets and honesty." She takes a deep breath. "I have not been honest." She closes her eyes as she says, "I was indeed a bard in Orlais. I played The Game." Well shit. Any more secrets to learn today?


	29. (Apollo Wings) The Mage in the Big City

Author note: Oh! We're so close to finishing the main questline that it's painful! However... because Musicalrain got to do smut... so do I! She get's all the fun!

But primarily an angsty chapter... I end up with them somehow... and there's going to be a fair bit of drinking in this too. What can I say? Bad Wardens! (Also - I wrote this in a weird order.)

* * *

**William Amell **

I re-tucked my stupid velvet britches into my boots. I do not like trousers. They... separate things. I'm currently stuck between hanging left or right. It's just weird. How to mundane men cope with this on an everyday basis? Sleeping britches are loose... this is not.

Anyway - I'm supposed to be a Starkhaven noble. I'll just wear my Amell tartans. Stupid britches being cut weird in the crotch region. I'm also pretty sure Shiloh was watching me standing awkwardly trying to rearrange myself. I ducked back inside the tent and stripped off the horrid noble clothing and chucked on my cream-white shirt from the dwarven ball and my Amell tartans and kilt before loping back out of the tent... feeling much more comfortable.

"Tell me William." Liana narrowed her eyes at me. "Are you a proper Havener?" I stared at her in the noble dress. It's weird. It doesn't suit her. It's perfect... she'll play the part of a grumpy noble well.

"I have no idea what you mean." I shrugged in feigned nonchalance. "No." I whispered aside. "It's bloody cold in Ferelden unless you haven't realized."

"Ah. Just a thing your fake wife should know." She giggled.

"They're not going to question us on bedroom habits. It'll be a quick in and out - as soon as we're past the gates we split up and figure out what's happening in Denerim." And I actually have the weird meeting with Shiloh's family. I suppose it was going to happen at some point. But it feels like it's going to be awkward to meet her father, cousins and friends. 'Hi - I'm the man having sex with this lass - why yes - I'm a shem!' It's going to be weird.

It's also strange that the templar can do a passable Orlesian accent in short periods of time. Before Leliana gives him a good elbow in the ribs and butts in. It works.

Maker - we're working too hard on actually getting in the city. Let's just get on with it hmm?

* * *

We brought the cart up with Bodahn and Sandal in front before the guardsmen stopped us at the gates. Liana and myself got off as well as Leliana and the templar. His fake name is Pierre. I can cope with that. Mine is Gareth. Because it's my middle name and I have no imagination. We're using Liana's surname if prompted though. Shiloh is using her mother's name - we should be the only ones recognized in any way. Not that we'll be asked names will we?

Then again... I have to wear make up too. Isolde gave me this stuff that she uses to cover up a mole on her cheek. My face feels weird. This whole situation feels weird. I also have my hair down. It gives me a 'sexy' look according to Shiloh. Plus the people at Ostagar only ever saw me with it up.

So the only problem will be keeping Shiloh from tearing my kilt off before we talk - judging by the very naked way she's staring at my boots. She visibly reigns it in as the guardsmen near us. "What's your business in Denerim." The taller of the two men asks in a tone clashing between boredom and tiredness.

"Visiting a friend in the city." I declare. "My wife - our friends, servants and our bodyguard." I gesture at the people in turn, focusing more on us 'nobles' as I assume a noble would and the guard quickly looks inside the cart.

"Weapons?" He questions.

"Our guardsman is adept in many weapons. And the servants were taught a few skills in case of the darkspawn." Liana answers.

"You're not travelling well for a Blight. Had any darkspawn attack you?" The shorter one adds.

"Pfft. As if. Ferelden is not having a Blight." Leliana snorts, her 'high Orlesian' accent shining in her words and the guardsman's lip curls upwards. "Do not look at me like that. Pierre - the man is staring at me."

"Now see here Ser-" The templar starts before getting cut off by a sharp elbow. Inner joy... I should keep this damned smile in check though. I might get glared at and scrutinized seeing as I mentioned the man in a group as a 'friend'.

"I can handle him dear." Leliana ground out in mock anger. "You are speaking to the Comte et Comtesse De Montsimmard. Our friends are the-"

"Freiherr und Freifrau Von Perendale." Liana finished. "My lord husband may not be Nevarran but he is the sitting... what do you Fereldens call it? Baron?" The last bit, and I'm not sure it was an act - I don't know if she knows the direct translation. Not that Fereldens have called Banns 'Barons' in over an Age.

"Yes milady. The Common word is Bann though." Shiloh adds in mock subservience. I can tell she's hating this. "If my lords and ladies could please be allowed into the city? We've travelled a long while and need a rest before meeting their old friend Brother Genetivi." The tall guard just stares at Shiloh.

"Fine. Dennis - let them through." The taller guard orders the shorter 'Dennis'.

And after that - we're through. That was weird.

* * *

"Maker's breath - you guys were amazing!" The templar smiled. "Are you sure you're mages and not actors?"

"I was betrothed to a noble boy when I was younger." Liana shrugged. "I had to learn some things in order to have fit in with the family I was to become part of. Then of course his family fell out of favour and then I manifested magical powers. One crazy-wazy mess."

"If we could just hunt down this Genetivi?" Shiloh shook her shoulders out. She's not comfortable without Holly at her back. It must be strange to not have any sort of weapon. It's not like I can been torn away from my magic. Unless of course... I'm not thinking about being Tranquil. "Alistair and Leliana can ask around about this Genetivi with Zevran and Oghren. And... Liana, Ward and William can come with me. We'll meet again outside the city come nightfall to set up tents coz it'll be dangerous to sleep here."

"We're going to the Alienage then lass?" I question. It's going to happen. Shake hands with her father? What will I say? My mind is whirling. She nods and starts off in to the west and I follow quickly.

The city... it's a hive of heartbeats, there's colourful market stalls and children running about, hopscotch on a bit of clean-ish cobbles. Some sort of festive bunting up between some shops. Did we miss a holiday?

Shit - we missed Satinalia. The Blight tends to get in the way of celebrations. The good thing is though... it means the weather is set to improve over the bitter chills and icy rain and sleet we've been travelling in. Shiloh stops at a barred stone walled area and I try to 'casually' look in. All I can see is more stone walls. There's a lot of dirt on the inner side though. I guess the Alienage proper is further in.

"What do you mean lockdown?" Shiloh glared at the guardsman in front of the gates. Uh-oh. Anger is happening. "You can't do this!"

"I'm not miss. The elves are revolting. The Arl's son was killed by your fellow knife-ears." Not a good thing you just said stranger. I grabbed Shiloh's elbows and used a bit of my Arcane Warrior channelled strength to hold her.

"You won't call me a fucking knife-ear when your teeth are on the floor!" She shouts as I manoeuvre her away.

"What happens during a lockdown?" I ask as cordially as possible. If it's anything like the Rite of Annulment we'll be sneaking into the Alienage and saving the elves.

"The troublemakers get purged." He sniffs. "Get that elf away from here before I call the other guards."

"I shall do Ser." Shiloh struggles against me as I keep on pulling her away from the Alienage until Liana, Ward and we are in an alleyway. Shiloh slams her fist on a wooden support beam on a building... a tavern by the smell of stale drinks, piss and vomit. "Shiloh... a purge. That's like the templars and... the Rite." I breathed. I don't know if she's listening and repeat myself until she just stares at me.

"We have to get in! We have to fucking well stop them!" Her fists ball at her sides repeatedly. "They'll kill innocents."

"We'll find a way in." I soothe. "What happens at night with the guards?"

"We should ask Leliana. She said she used to play 'The Game' in Denerim. If anyone can get something done it is a bard." Liana puts in. Ward cautiously walked up to Shiloh and licked her fist. She instantly calmed and crouched to the dog, patting him on the head.

"We'll get in there. Leliana will help us." I nod my head, I feel sort of helpless we can't throw around our status as Grey Wardens to get in if Bann Teagan is to believed. "Did you want to do anything else while in the city lass?" I asked, trying to change the subject. Shiloh briefly looks at me.

"The Hogshead. If I can't see my family I'm getting properly drunk with smelly pirates." Now doesn't that sound enjoyable? As you want. I hope there's something drinkable. Perhaps rum... off your skin? Bad thoughts. Shiloh's upset about not seeing her family and I suddenly think of... not happening.

Still... I very much enjoyed licking rum off her. Next time. I'm finding something else, like... no - I think the rum served purposes quite well.

* * *

It's a long walk to the dockside tavern, through alleyways and winding cobble streets slicked through with rain and... piss from emptied chamberpots. That is - until we actually reach the place. Was it bad that I imagined the plaster head of a hog on the building. Is it worse that there actually is one? It sits in the middle of the building pale pink paint peeling off the plaster relief.

To be honest, it's what I imagined. The doors are scrub wood and only cover half the doorway before the three of us (and Ward) are inside. It's lit by caged oil lamps that flicker from chains on the ceiling and there's a crowd around the back of the tavern itself, cheering and booing something. The pit fights?

"Fuck me! How's the bastard still standing?" I hear one of the people mutter as he clutches to the bit of yellowed paper in his hands as if his life is in the bit. Shiloh works her way through the crowd, hand clasped to my elbow as she brings me up to the shoddy railing to see the fight.

Fuck me is right. There's a brute, easily as tall as he is wide, thick muscles all the way up and down, his shirt tied round his waist and hairy chest lined with blood and scars. The other bloke... looks as if he could get pushed over by the first one by a few heavy glances. He's wiry in his musculature and he spits a tooth to the bloody floor in the bottom of the pit. His chest and face look a mess of bruising and split skin.

The big brute leans down and picks up the tooth before putting it in the pocket of his britches. The smaller fighter beats his fists on him before backing away when it seems his effort is futile. The brute rounds up and shakes out his shoulders before his fist is under the other man's chin and the small one is down and out.

The crowd erupts into cheers and one in slightly less shabby clothing looks at the sand hourglass next to his elbow. "Four minutes and a half boys." There's a groan or two and a few of the people (I assume they've been betting) rip up their yellowed paper slips and others rush to the man, waving their papers. Funnily enough - the man who I first listened to is staring wide-eyed at his paper and if he was capable I think he'd cry.

"Got a fight for me Thad?" Shiloh is by the man with the hourglass and he glances up from his book where he's been writing down numbers meticulously in a chart of sorts.

"No." I pull Shiloh back from him. If she gets hurt I'm going feel terrible if I can't heal her and that'll draw templars. The only way to get out of it would be to say we're Grey Wardens. It's not going to happen. "If you get hurt."

"I'll be fine." Shiloh glared heatedly at me. "I need to let loose some steam is all."

"How about a bit of drinking? I have not had a good bier since Nevarra." Liana suggested. That's a fairly good one. Shiloh enjoys drinking as much as she does threatening the living shit out of people twice her size. Plus - I can do magic in the privacy of a room where she might have a headache.

"Thad - is 'Bela here? I saw The Siren's Call in the docks." Shiloh asked the pit fight organizer (I'm saying that - he could be some random man writing and pitting fighters today). I suppose his name is 'Thad'.

"Decided to pop into The Pearl. You still want that fight?" He chews the end of the pencil he writes with. "Coz I 'ave Michel the Bruiser free in ten minutes if the way he's eatin' through the raw ones is any bet."

"I'll... pass." Shiloh glances at me. I think she understands. Plus the idea of drinking and seeing this person she mentioned is obviously slightly more of a draw to her at the moment.

* * *

Now we're going to a brothel. I thought it was men who were supposed to be the ones who go to brothels and taverns... Shiloh is the man in this relationship and I'm in a kilt and make-up to cover my facial tattoos. This... is weird. Shiloh glances round the brothel, scantily dressed men and women of various ages, height, species and weight in every direction. Wait... I've heard of 'The Pearl'... Anders!

He said he always tried to get here when he escaped! I wonder if he's here now? Actually - judging by the fact I can neither see or hear him... I do not want to see him this very second.

Then I notice something I never thought I'd see. Shiloh just bounded up to a woman as barely dressed as the whores barring the fact she has a leather sort of arm guard up one arm and a blue bandana. The shocking fact is actually that it's a human lass.

"Hey sweet thing. I see you've missed me." The woman cooed, tousling Shiloh's hair as I'm sure she'd being crushed. How is the lass still breathing? Some weird feat in clothing design. She's actually wearing the Thedas' most rigid tunic/dress ever made. Even my Warden Robes can't withstand too much Shiloh tackle hugging.

"They've put the Alienage in lockdown!" Shiloh muttered into the woman's... large chest. I feel awkward being here.

"Come to 'Bela... I'll make you happy again." The woman... must be this 'Bela' that Shiloh asked about in The Hogshead. I somehow didn't imagine a human woman. Or a Rivaini. She said it was stinky pirates. Not that this is a bad thing... I just... feel left out? No... wrong choice of words. I feel like a spare wheel on the cart.

"While that would be interesting..." I cleared my throat and Shiloh unlocked her arms from around the woman, pulling me over to this - I assume 'Bela' - that she's been crushing within an inch of the lass's life.

"William, this is Captain Isabela of The Siren's Call. One of my best stinky pirate friends." I try my best to not be so awkwardly polite and bow so I settle on a 'wave' of sorts. It still feels awkward.

"Oh - you got yourself a very sexy bloke!" All three women in the area giggled. Are we obvious? Wait... sexy? When did that happen? "Can I play with him?" Alrighty... wait? This Isabela pirate lass... has the most feral grin I've ever seen. It's not an unnatural one like Morrigan tries every so often. But it is... predatory.

"Hands off the mage." Shiloh puts a middle finger up at Isabela and she ruffles Shiloh's hair again. I would have thought anyone attempting that for the first time let alone the second time would find their hands broken.

Isabela leans into the two of us. "Mage! Can he do the lightning trick?" She whispers, her tone sultry. "Because you have to share like a good girl Shiloh." Why do I feel very much like a piece of meat being bargained for in a market...

"I trust you've met a mage that can then?" I asked, attempting to remove myself from the 'market' as it is.

Shiloh shakes her head "This is weird. Isabela... mine." She pats my shoulder and smiles at me while giving Isabela very obvious 'do not touchy' glares.

"I am. " I shrug. "And she's completely ruined me for everyone else." Because I can't imagine not having Shiloh with me any more. I really love her. I should tell her more often.

"Shit." The pirate snapped her fingers dramatically before shrugging herself. "Can't say I didn't try."

"Quick question - how do you know about the lightning trick?" I asked in a short aside. Not many people who even would have sex with a mage would know about it. You have to know the lightning spell first off. You don't have to be a Galvanist but it's a crucial thing. I've heard Creation magic can increase stamina and the amount of times... if I understand correctly.

"Lucky girl..." Isabela winks at Shiloh. Ah... I was obvious wasn't I? "I met a mage who needed to be hidden. He hid in my tits."

"Blonde? Stubble? Snarks every three seconds?" I attempted. Because I actually only know one other mage who can do the 'lightning trick' who might have been here hiding in breasts.

"Yeah..." She looks at me with an amused expression on her face.

"One of my friends had sex with one of yours!" I turned to Shiloh. "It's a weird world."

"It's a small world." But it also means Anders wasn't talking out his arse about the exploits he gets up to when he escapes. I owe him an apology for calling his bluff.

* * *

Several drinks and an utterly humiliating game of Wicked Grace later in which Isabela wiped the floor with Liana and myself and Shiloh is buzzing a mile a minute. And leaning into me very unsubtly and stroking my thigh.

"Is this supposed to be the Bagger Smile?" Liana holds out a set of cards with rope shapes on it.

"Begger Smile sweet thing." Isabela sighs. "It's no fun playing against novices."

"It's better when you play strip Wicked Grace." Nope... not happening. I clutch at my sash defensively at Shiloh's suggestion.

* * *

Isabela left over two hours ago now and I'm sure we need to be back at the campsite we'd planned on soon enough. Leliana somehow managed to hunt us down (no clue as to how she did that but still) and told us they'd put the tents up after a fruitless search for Brother Genetivi's home. Shiloh forced a tankard of ale on the bard.

That was an hour ago.

"Perhaps we should help our illustrious leader to her feet?" Leliana whispered to me. I take a quick look at her and she looks sleepy.

"I heard that shem." Shiloh lifted her metal tankard to her lips and proceeded to stare into it in astonishment when she found it to be empty.

"Shiloh lass, it's getting rather late. Your pirate friend left a long time ago now." She shrugs and stands up, straightening out her shoulders. She's not even tipsy. She said the madam at this brothel 'Sanga' waters the ale down so you put a shot of rum in to make it 'normal strength'... I didn't and I think she may be right.

* * *

Liana, Leliana, Ward, myself and Shiloh get back to camp without any difficulties before I ushered Shiloh into our tent where she half collapsed into her bedroll, I pulled her boots and my own off before I flopped onto my bedroll. I'm fairly tired. It's still early and the templar is on watch with the assassin. Leliana and Liana on second. Oghren and Morrigan on third. It's our night off. Yay!

"William." Shiloh whispered, a lazy smile on her face.

"Aye lass?" I whispered back. Shiloh sat up and looked down at me, her chin length hair falling forward and framing her face. I never thought I'd be so lucky and be able to love such an amazing, gorgeous woman.

She slowly lowered her face to mine and I could taste the ale and tangy rum on her breath, her tongue slipping into my mouth. I adore the feeling of her soft lips on mine, the way her hands tangle into my loose hair and her nails dig just so slightly into my scalp. It creates a warmth that spreads from my chest and radiates outwards, the effect so calming and stimulating that it confuses me still.

I don't know if it's the ale I've drunk or she has, but she pressed herself fiercely on top of me, swinging her legs on top of me to straddle my hips. I gasped into her mouth as she ground her hips forward, my body responding in the only natural way as the blood rushed to my cock with an almost painful twitch. Maker's teeth. I don't know if she wants to do that again but I liked it. I groaned into her mouth and she parts from me with a wet pucker.

I'm instantly sobered as she sits up on her knees and strips off her tunic and breastband in one move. She's so fucking beautiful, so gorgeous. I trace the feminine shape of her with my eyes before I move. I sit up beneath her and latch onto her left nipple, sucking the raspberry bud while my hand softly rubs the other hardening nipple. Shiloh groans, her head thrown back and her hips moving against me almost viciously. Her skin is so hot against my own, her thrumming taint and hammering heartbeat in time with my own as I graze teeth and flick a thumb on her nipples.

I know that she wants this to be a quick one, the way she's groaning and gasping to my ministrations on her breasts, her hips threatening to meld into mine through her hose and my kilt. But I intend for this to be special each time. She's worth the effort of making sure she thoroughly enjoys herself.

All of a sudden she freezes up and I stop what I was doing to see her gasping for air, her chest heaving unevenly. Did I do something wrong? Oh please no. I was getting very caught up in enjoying her breasts. I hope I didn't hurt her... that would be bad.

Then Shiloh moves into a flurry of movement again, pushing my kilt up to pool around my waist and stripping my weird stockings off and she kneels - just staring at my crotch in my small clothes.

It's a very odd feeling - being watched - strangely a turn-on, like having a personal voyeur, like I can allow this natural side of me to be shown around her. I love her. She bites her lip as her warm, tan hand smooths up my thigh and I try to remain as still as possible. My cock however, betrays my stillness and it throbs as more blood is directed to stiffen further. I suck in a bit of the cool air from inside the tent. Fucking Void - she affects me so much. She's just looking and I can't help it... and that's looking through my smalls. Maker's fucking teeth.

That's not looking.

Unless the definition of looking became to explore with fingers - that is definitely not looking with the way her fingers lightly brush the small patch of damp I've made on my smalls in precum. I bolt upright and Shiloh looks vaguely surprised by my reaction and incredibly proud too. The hand trails back up my thigh with the featheriest of touches and a finger gently strokes me from base to throbbing tip. I shudder. I need to calm down.

Shiloh smiles, eyes boring pale blue into my darker ones as she stands in the tent, pulls her hose and smalls off, kicks them to her boots and kneels back down, straddling my hips again. Maker Shiloh. You tempt a man dying of thirst with a drink.

I'm drawn to move closer to her and with my hands shaking ever so slightly from the reverence and sheer thrill of touching her flush skin, caress at the curve of her hips before my right hand skims the muscles of her lower stomach and then between her legs to the downy curls there. My middle finger brushes the taut, slick wet edges of her cunt, my thumb moving in slow circles around her nub.

Shiloh's breasts thrust toward me as she moans, her throat is bared to me and to lave at the pulse point there. I shuffle forward to do just that, my teeth and lips nipping at the sensitive skin there while I continue to massage her hot pearl, the moisture gathering around my middle finger more until I slip it in ever so slightly. Maker she's so hot and tight. Her cunt tightens with her pulse around my finger and I can't help but imagine my cock inside her again as she's spasmed in orgasm.

Shiloh whispers with her head still thrown back, her voice rasped. "Fuck me." I feel my lips pull into a smile on her neck and I return the rasp with a growl low into the hollow of her throat.

"Not yet Shiloh. I'm going to make you whimper." It's almost as if those words were her undoing and I sped up my thumb as her hips buck into my palm and my finger is thrust deeper into her tightening cunt. She bucks and whimpers mercilessly on my hand, gasps drawn in between the whimpers and obscenities she groans until she's panting for air and her cunt is twitching from the aftershocks, my finger still nice and deep in the heat there. I slip my free arm around her waist and hold her still against my chest as she calms, kissing up her throat as I withdraw my finger from inside her until our lips meet again and her tongue battles for dominance with mine.

Her hands slip up my chest to undo my shirt buttons as the sash was long abandoned. She growls in frustration before I break apart from her, and slip my shirt off over my head, wiping the powdery make-up off from around my eyes and forehead on the inside of the shirt as I do so. I lift slightly and shuffle my kilt and smalls off in a surprisingly non-awkward movement for me.

Shiloh's hands skim up and down my now naked chest, her fingers threading into the small line of black hair that leads down to my sex. Her tongue darts out to the edge of her kissed swollen bow-lips and she leans into me, her breath still uneven and hot as her mouth touches the shell of my ear. "We could try... you know." I don't know. My brow furrows in question.

"I don't follow." I answer truthfully and Shiloh brushes my loose hair off my shoulder before kissing a light line of soft wet kisses down my neck and chest until...

I figured it out. Did she not understand... in Redcliffe? "No." I scoot backwards on the bedroll to stop her descent and she immediately stills - her face almost defeated. "I... I really can't. Not that." I can't do it. It's what they... I don't even want to think about it.

"I'm not a templar." Shiloh says softly and I rake a hand through my hair as she kisses my chest again, just one kiss mind you.

"I know you're not... but - I can't do it. They... I really don't want to speak about it when we're like this." I gestured to our nakedness. "Later... if you want. When I'm not hating myself for even thinking about it and just want to make love to this beautiful lass in front of me."

Shiloh seems to understand at least and leaves the subject be before leaning forward on her knees and gently kissing my lips with her own and I relaxed a little at the warm embrace. It's love in a gesture, so heating it could fill me from the inside out and I shiver just a wee bit at how utterly disarming she can be. Shiloh is the one to break the soft kiss as she leans her breasts into me, her tongue tracing over my neck. "Can I... just try touching?" Her voice is tentative and my breath stills a moment, my heart threatening to thud out of my chest. I bring my right hand up to where her left is holding onto my shoulder.

"Let me show you." I manage to whisper hoarsely and Shiloh twists to lay on her right hip next to me, her right arm supporting her and I keep hold of her left.

I gently guide her hand down the flat of my stomach and lean into my left hand so I can see properly everything I'm trying. It's Shiloh. I need to remember just how important and wonderful this lass is. She loves me and I love her. Slowly I use her hand to touch my cock with the briefest of touches, so softly it almost didn't register. A small smile graces her beautiful face for a moment and I gently but with a longer period of contact use her hand to stroke the length. Her fingers curl instinctively around my cock and I press my thumb into her wrist a little to stop her.

This is slow. My speed. If I can't do this... we stop. All my breath escapes me as I try again, this time holding her hand still as she wraps around my shaft. She leans her head into my chest a moment and maintains that stillness with me until my heart feels like it's not fluttering out of control. A bead of sweat runs down between my shoulder blades and down my back and I very carefully manoeuvre her hand up and down in the slightest jerks of motion.

That wasn't horrible. It was the most I could manage though. For now at least I don't think I can be touched too much. "That's it... I can't... not more at the moment." Shiloh nods mutely and her hand leaves my cock to cradle my cheek as she kisses me. I sigh into her lips and I'm sure there's a bit of water in the edges of her eyes. "Are you alright?" I ask as I break the kiss.

"Of course." She soothes and kisses my cheek. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"That was... a stupid question wasn't it lass?" I snort a long breath and glance down her toned body, my hand settles on the clinch of her waist and I bring her up close to me. I need her warmth. "I'm sorry. It's... difficult."

"I'm sure we'll manage." She whispers back to me and I gaze at those limpid pools of sky blue I love so much. "I love you, so much."

"Aye. I love you too lass. You're the bright star in the dark... leading me back." I nuzzle at her neck and Shiloh rolls to her back, bringing me with her. I feel another throb in my cock as her legs wrap around my hips and her hands settle on my shoulders. I can feel her wriggle as my cock rests on her inner thigh and I reach between us, never leaving my gaze at the expression on her face.

I push into that all-consuming heat of her cunt, still wet from earlier and slide slowly until I hit the point where her brow creases ever so slightly and her fingers flex on my shoulders. I groan and remain still a moment, just feeling her hot flesh around me, the pulse deep inside her before I move my hips back a moment and thrust.

Shiloh gasps as I do so and I feel a swelling of masculine pride at the reaction, repeating the action with a little more force. "Fucking Void." She murmurs, her fingernails digging into my shoulders. "Keep doing that."

I close my eyes a moment, just feeling her as I thrust with more urgency each time, hearing the slap of our bodies connecting, the tight coiling heat of her, the way I can lose myself in her body and I arch upwards until I'm on my knees, holding her hips up to me as I pound inside her. Her gasps become whimpers and I hold a moment.

"Are you-"

"Don't fucking well stop." She breathes and I feel a bubble of pride lodge in my throat as I continue, sweat runs in little beads on my back as I keep the pace up, changing the angle ever so slightly again until I'm groaning with the need, the desire to cum, to fill her with my seed. Shiloh's ribcage thrusts upwards and I come undone to my name spilled from her lips, responding in turn with her own name torn from my throat as I continue to thrust, the blinding white flashing in my eyes as I shudder into her.

I collapse forwards when spent, still seated in the joint wetness of her cunt and my seed and I feel our hearts beating in the same erratic and thumping tune. I gasp for air at her throat as I try to calm and kiss there gently. "I love you." I mutter into her neck. "I always will my little star."

I slide out... still hard from the glorious heat and tight twitch of her sex and lay next to her on the bedroll. "I do too." She smiled breathlessly. "Were you using magic? I blanked when..."

"Not a jolt." I smiled. "That was all me."

"Fuck me William." Shiloh rolls her eyes and her hand wipes down my sweated chest, the other threading into my damp hair.

"Was that an order Commander?" I smirk.

"What do you think?" She sighs, a playful smile on those kissable lips.

"I want to know. Because... I think there's some Warden stamina that needs burning off."

* * *

Needless to say. We didn't actually sleep much for having a night off from watch. We were tired... and I think aching a bit. But Maker... I think we both needed that.

"Have much fun last night?" I turn my attentions to our resident assassin. "I could barely sleep with the noise."

"I did have... fun." I tilt my head slightly. "Noise?"

"Ah! When in the throes of passion it is indeed true we forget how loud we can be!" He smirks. "Why - just in Redcliffe I was nearly caught by the cook as I fucked the stablehand in the... stables."

"That must have been an interesting view for her." I shake my head. "Oh - we met a pirate yesterday. She said you killed her husband?"

"Me personally?" Zevran's eyebrows shot up. "A small world. Would the pirate be a certain buxom woman, decked in more gold than clothing?"

"Yeah." I feel my lips pull into a tight pinch. "Isabela?"

"That good woman." He sighs. "She arranged for the contract herself. Luis I believe his name was. I kept a small token of his back in Antiva, enough gold to finally buy this pair of boots I had wanted."

"Boots? Is this when I find out you have a leather fetish?" I smirked.

"Ho ho! He cracks a joke!" Zevran chuckled. "There is nothing like Antivan leather, it smells like the cesspools and tanneries, the corrupt politicians and of course - the whores of the lower city. Just to have a piece of Antivan leather, a whore and some fish stew. I would be in my home away from home." He smiles wistfully and stands up, stretching out his muscles.

"Did you not buy these boots then?" I asked, looking down at the slightly green coloured leather of the boots he wears.

"Alas, I thought - one more job then I shall buy these boots, then I shall have a raucous night in the brothels and bars in Antiva City." He shakes his head dramatically. "You can see where this certain job has put me no? Fighting for the Grey Wardens."

"I'm sure you'll be back to assassinating in no time." I waved a hand nonchalant about it. "Only those who deserve to die."

"We all do mi amigo. For some reason every soul deserves it." He said darkly. "Enough of this - we need find this Chantry Brother."

"True enough Zev." I reply. "And of course about the finding Genetivi." I push up from my seating and push my shoulder blades out.

"I must say - I am fairly jealous of your dear Shiloh." He grins, the dark aside almost disappeared from his face. "The moaning in the tent almost sparked a fit of pique in camp for us to all join you."

"When you say all... I assume you mean yourself?" I snarked back. "Zev, if you dare I'll show you the lightning trick I do - and it won't be enjoyable."

"And that is where I believe you are wrong." He added in a sultry tone. "It is such a shame you don't wish my company."

"Not one iota." I sigh. "It's more a shame for you."

"Wrong again mi amigo." His eyebrow wiggle and I shake my head. He's insatiable. If someone ever falls hard enough for him he'll wear them out.

"Shiloh! Zev keeps on trying to steal me away from you!" I shout, putting my hands up in surrender. Shiloh comes over and wraps a arm around my waist.

"Bad assassin. My mage." She narrowed her eyes at him. "The plan for today is to take Alistair to that sister of his. Then we're hunting Genetivi."


	30. (Musicalrain) The Brawler in the Streets

Author Note: Terrible author is terrible. Updates are slowing you guys! Summer's just about over, and I, unfortunately, cannot keep up with writing ~8-10k chapters every few days. :'( Our chapters are going to be shorter, ~6k, and updates roughly every other week, or more frequently depending on RL. Thank you all for being so patient! And without further ado, here's The Brawler in the Streets! :D

* * *

**Shiloh Tabris**

Ugh. I hate this fucking servant's dress. Does it have to be so... vomit and shit colored? I mean, I don't really care for dresses in the first place, but wearing something so constrictive and foul colored makes this experience that much more enjoyable. I was being sarcastic, got it? And then poor Holly! I have to leave her all by her lonesome in Bodahn's cart. I have my belt knife hidden in my boot, and a small dagger the Orlesian loaned me shoved in my breastband, but it all doesn't make me feel better. I've gone around without my greatsword plenty of times, but I've been practically fused with her since becoming a Warden that... I miss my sword! It's comforting to know that William can't be so easily disarmed, if you can call it that. He looks weird with the Orlesian noblewoman's powdered crap on his face covering his tattoos though. Weird... but not bad. Just very fucking abnormal.

I really shouldn't be thinking about this right now. We're walking though the markets. Yep. The guards were the same ones from yesterday, and they fortunately recognized our group. It's odd though watching William pretend to be with Liana – her hand tucked into his elbow. Heh. Oh, but I'm not jealous. Nope. Can't be, because I was... _up_ with William all night, and I _definitely_ know where his affections lie. And Liana's far too much a sweet puppy to be cruel and a bitch like that. Just look at how giddy she is looking at fruit stands. Fruit!

We're in the markets, actually the outer rim of them, looking for the house of Alistair's supposed half-sister. Cause I promised him we'd have time to see her. Even if I can't fucking see my own family cause of some shit-breath arse-faced noble dick-hole that put the fucking Blighted alienage on lockdown! I just want to find whoever fucking did that and shove my fist up their arse to the elbow, grab a hold of their innards, and tear them apart from the inside. A cruel smile spreads across my face, and I see the assassin walking beside me look at me with a raised brow. Just some... pleasant thoughts. Nothing to be overly curious or concerned over bud.

I hear Alistair breathe in sharply at the front of our group, "I think that one's it." I see him as he points at a rather plain, weatherworn house. Small, but larger than any in the alienage.

"Go on," I nod my head towards it. "We'll wait for you."

"You're not... going to come?" He looks nervous.

What? Am I his sodding nursemaid now? Do I have to hold his hand and help him use the chamberpot? Oh – that was a little harsh. Guess I'm still harboring a bit of anger from imagining disemboweling someone. I want to disembowel that someone really, really bad. Oh. He's looking at me all expectant-like. "She's your sister," I quirk a brow. "Aren't _you_ supposed to talk to her? We'll wait. Like I said." I move my hands in a 'go away' motion. "Now shoo."

Leliana places a second hand on his arm where she's holding him, "I can come with, if you need the moral support Alistair."

He sighs relieved. "That'd be great Leliana." Let the Orlesian handle the touchy-feely sibling reunion crap. Bad mood persisting. Argh. I was laid _really _well last night too. Didn't I hear that's supposed to relax you? It does for a bit usually, but maybe I'm just odd. Berserker and all. I have a special well of anger. Heh. Can't be helped.

Liana can't possibly contain herself as we're waiting near Alistair's sister's house, so I give her a handful of silver and tell her to go shopping with the assassin as an escort. I give Zevran a harsh glare and mutter, "touch her and I'll cut off your balls," before they leave. I think he understands. Even though he smirked. Fucker.

"Are you alright Shiloh?" I turn to see William lean slightly towards me despite our disguises. I sent Ward off with Liana and Zevran, and Oghren's leaning against the house using his ax to hold up his arms... he's almost falling asleep. Guy needs to quit drinking himself to the point of oblivion when we're trying to do stuff. But he can still fight, and it's not like I'm worried – it's the stench. Whatever the sod he drinks is fowl. "You look more... glowery than usual."

Oh, right. William was talking. "I'm alright, babe." I plaster on a terse smile. Did I just call him 'babe'? Fucking Liana and her gooey romance shit is getting to me. Well... William did call me his 'little star' last night. I guess he's babe now. I snort at my thoughts. "Still a little pissed over not seeing Father, but I can handle it."

"We still haven't spoken to Leliana about that," he looks briefly at the doorway. "I'm sure she'll be able to help, lass." We'll see. I'm not going to hold my breath, but it would be nice to get in there and kill some shem arseholes that think they can hurt my family, friends, neighbors. There's nothing quite like the sweet satisfaction of driving Holly through the breastbone of a shem, hearing that snapping _crunch _of bone, and seeing the rewarding thick ooze of blood pouring around her gleaming blade. Ah. More pleasant thoughts. I smile cruelly again, and William cocks his head to the side. I shake mine. No need to say that aloud while I'm trying to pretend to be a servant.

* * *

It's several more minutes until a ruffled-looking Alistair comes out of the house, with a frowning Orlesian beside him. "Not a happy reunion?" I guess.

Alistair sighs heavily as he walks towards us and rubs the back of his neck, "All Goldanna wanted was coin. She didn't even care about anything else – that I was her brother. She just kept telling me to give her coin."

I shrug, "She sounds like a bitch, but everyone's out for themselves, really. Some people less than others, but it's all the same. Coin keeps bread on the table and the seasons coming. If she doesn't care you're her brother, she doesn't care. If she wants to use you as a meal ticket, well, then you're a meal ticket to her." I shrug again. That was a lot of words. "Lots of people are selfish – especially shems."

His lips thin, "Well then maybe I should be a little selfish too. Look out for myself more. Think about myself first."

"Whatever makes you happy... So long as you don't turn into a giant dick, and you keep your place in battle." William snorts in laughter from beside me, and mutters, "like he isn't already."

We find Liana, Ward, and Zevran in front of... an Orlesian saleswoman. Liana has a bottle of perfume held up to her nose and a stupid smile on her face. "Milady," I'm a servant. I'm a servant. Handmaiden! "Do you really need to purchase something so... frivolous?" I was hoping she'd go to the fruit stands. I could have lunch.

"Oh, but it smells so wonderful!" She bounces slightly.

"Come dear," William strides forward in his part of our ruse. "Let's make your purchase, and then we must leave. We have an appointment to keep." Genitivi... that shem-bastard. I haven't even met him and hate him already. How come we can't sodding well find his house?

* * *

Apples, pumpernickel bread and goat's cheese was a good lunch. Ah. I missed home. And the shems come in useful, we actually get the fresh and ripe stuff. It's good shit.

"So, Genitivi," I look towards the Orlesian. "Where'd you check for the shem yesterday?"

"The housing districts near the castle," Leliana replies before pursing her lips to the side. "And the Chantry, but the Sisters there have not heard from him in some time. They also said they are not sure of his housing, as the Chantry is closed due to the numbers of the... departed."

"So he's not at the Chantry or the fat districts." I cross my arms, "Maybe he chose smaller housing. There's apartments by the docks, and some houses scattered along the shops outside the markets." I point a thumb at Alistair, "Like his sister's. Some shems live pretty close to the alienage too."

"Did you see any casteless dwarves at the Chantry?" William asks. Oh yeah... All those dwarves we sent away.

"There were quite a few," the ginger-haired shem bobs her head. "A child as well."

William sighs and a flicker of a smile crosses his face fleetingly. Back to business though... "Well let's head to the docks," I uncross my arms. "We can split up there to ask around and check the apartments. We'll find that shem today, Maker dammit."

* * *

We start off, and after several minutes of walking, I point towards a wide alleyway, "That's a shortcut. We'll end up pretty damned close to the apartments."

They all agree complacently, and by the time we're half-way through the alley, my sensitive hearing picks up the telltale _shing _of a sword leaving its scabbard. I look briefly towards Zevran – the assassin heard it too. "Everyone – prepare yourselves," I hiss out harshly. Hand in breastband... Dagger where – oh shit. "They have archers!" Sod being quiet. The only one with armor is Oghren!

William grunts and summons the earth into a wall around us, as three arrows bounce uselessly off of it. "Someone take out those fucking archers – _now!" _Knife in boot. Knife in boot – got it.

Liana's hands glow that eerie orange again, but as she holds them above each other, a black smoke of some kind grows between her palms, she whispers something in her native tongue, and smoke shoots out to cover the archers in a thick cloud of smoky-black magic. Based on their screams, it isn't a nice spell. Something that weird Nevarran covenant does?

Oh shit. That's a _gigantic_ Qunari mercenary. I think I saw one once. I have no flaming armor, and only a knife and a dagger. Sodding great. I dodge his initial charge, and parry his greatsword's reach (Holly could take him). As useless as I am without my trusty blade, I can only continue to dodge the buffoon and shout insults at him as anger pulses in my veins. I hear a metallic whistle, and next thing I see there's a blade sticking out of the Qunari's helm. I turn as the giant crashes to the ground in death, and see Zevran with a smug look on his face and two throwing knives clasped in his palms. I nod to him in silent thanks, before shoving my puny blades back in their hidden places, and hefting the Qunari's greatsword. It's a _little _heavier than Holly. And longer. Oh well, it'll have to do.

I scream harshly as my rage bubbles to its normal thresholds in battle, and decapitate the closest foe with a turn of my hips and follow-through of my limbs. The rage continues though, and I'm blind to nothing but the spray of blood, the metallic _clash _of steel on steel, the _crack _of bones under a pommel strike, and the satisfying screams of anguish. I think the fact that I was pissed before made me very pissed now. Maybe it's because I'm here slashing into these arseholes without Holly or my armor, while I would much rather be sitting in a chair between Adda and William, with a mug of tea and the coziness of the quilt Nola made for me one year. Not the time to be sodding sentimental.

Ah. One dual-wielding arsehole left. Let's make him scream.

"Stop – don't kill him." Say what Orlesian? You don't want me to kill the guy that wanted to kill us? My rage starts to fizzle as I turn towards her and see a stern, resolute expression on her face despite her merciful words.

"And why shouldn't I gut this shem?"

She shakes her head and stands beside me, her nobledress ruined by just one splattering of blood across the skirts and ruddy stains on the cuffs – she hid blades on herself too. "He is not a common thug. None of them were – they are all well equipped and well-trained." She looks down at the fallen man – one leg and arm petrified due to William, with blood oozing from his nose and mouth. Being turned half to stone probably doesn't feel very nice. "You know what I speak of – who are you?"

He hacks a bit. More blood, and at the sight of it and the lack of action I pierce the ground with my 'borrowed' greatsword. "An idiot that regrets taking you lot on." He wheezes, "Was told this would be easy. Just kill the little red-haired human girl, and deal with the others as we like."

Leliana blinks, "Kill... you had come to kill me?"

Someone wants the Orlesian dead? So these guys weren't sent from some shem jackarse to kill us Wardens? Different... "Who's trying to kill the Or- Leliana?"

He wheezes again. I think William turned some of his innards into stone too. "I don't get paid to know the reasons. I just take my coin and know who to kill." He coughs with a slight chuckle, "Ha! Coin! Lucky to get away alive!"

My lips thin in impatience. "Then who the Void hired you? What's the shem's name?" Cause you know it's gotta be a shem. Shems like hiring others to do their killing, it seems.

"Never found out his name." He wipes his bloodied face with the back of one of his gauntlets. "Sounded like he was working for someone else himself." He blinks up at me with pain-filled eyes. "If you make my end quick, I can give you the directions to the house I met 'em at. They're here. In the city."

I nod and remove the dagger from my breastband and step forwards. He fumbles with his good arm at a pouch on his belt, hands me a slip of velum. Once I've taken it – I slit his throat. He dies quickly. Mercenaries are pieces of shit. They'll kill anything – even children. At least the Crows don't venture to the slaughtering of innocents. Mercenaries aren't know for their credence. When it's done, I wipe off his blood on the hem of my ruined dress and stand towards the others.

William speaks up, and says darkly, "We should go, before the templars come." Ah, yes. Lots of magic was used here in the middle of the day.

"I know where we can go," I nod my head further down the alley. "We can wait until we're sure things have cooled down, and figure out what the sod all this is about," I snort. The others don't have anything to say against that, as I lead them towards the dockside warehouses.

* * *

"What is this place?" Alistair asks as we step through a well hidden side-door on a seemingly abandoned warehouse. There's straw dummies, blocks of wood with various chunks knocked out, a ringed off area with rope, crates, chests, a slew of weapons – knives, daggers, swords of various sizes and make, shields (all wooden or steel), whips, chains, plain staves, maces, hand-axes, clubs, bows, and even a crappy crossbow. There's ropes hanging from the rafters, steel bars lining one wall, and targets lining another. It almost looks like an armory, save the quality of most of the weapons in the room.

"This is where I used to train with my mother and sometimes my cousins. Mamae would take me outside the city too, but most times we trained here." I immediately go to a chest with a hidden release, and open it quickly as I say, "Close the door!" over my shoulder. When the chest opens, it's empty. I smile. "Soris was here – his armor and weapons are gone." He'll kick those shem's arses.

"Who's Soris?" Alistair asks again. He's full of questions. Guess he's done being grumpy.

"My cousin." Shianni keeps her bow in the floorboards, so my family should be well-armed. No shems are going to hurt them in that Maker-forsaken purge.

"Ah," Zevran sighs as he runs his finger over one of the knives. All these weapons Mamae collected over time. "This room reminds me of many I trained in as a young Crow. So many pointy objects," he looks down briefly. "And bloodstains on the floorboards."

William looks down at the years-old bloodstains with a frown, and turns his head to look at the roped-off sparing ring. There's lots more bloodstains there, and cracked floorboards too. "If you trained here with your mother lass," he says with something I can't quite recognize in his voice. "Why is there so much blood?"

"You didn't think I learned how to fight without getting hurt sometimes? I was clumsy at first." He frowns harsher, and I can practically _feel _the disapproval radiating from him. "Hey – Mother knew what she was doing. She taught me well, and I remember her lessons... You know she helped Duncan, but she also fought Orlesians. She was one of The Night Elves during the war."

"Your mother was a Night Elf?" Leliana blinks rapidly. "That explains some things when I met her," she mutters to herself.

Oh, let's not forget why we're here though now that the Orlesian has drawn attention to herself. I don't need to hear any crap about Mamae. "Any idea who wants you dead?" I ask her.

She sighs. "It's Marjolaine – I know it must be." Oh. That would be the shembitch she mentioned the night she outed herself as a bard. That was a nice conversation. Her lover turned traitor and framed her for a crime she didn't commit, and that's how she ended up in those dungeons with Mamae. "Maybe someone recognized me... Or maybe she has finally found me, and wants to finish what she started so long ago."

"Well, we should go after her arse." I huff, "She tried to kill us. It's only right to return the favor." I hear Oghren laughing in agreement a little bit away. He's staring intently at some of the mounted weapons. He better not break something.

Leliana sighs, "Perhaps it's time to settle this once and for all."

"Nothing quite like a battle between scorned lovers. I look forward to seeing... the _destruction_." Zevran waggles his eyebrows. He's odd sometimes, but I'm familiar with his type. 'Bela's no better, and she's my best pirate friend. She's a pirate, and not a shem. There's a difference... Shut up.

"Are any of these staves enchanted? I am not sure though. They do not look very shiny. Usually they sparkle and twinkle a bit." Liana asks. She's standing near Oghren.

"Nah," I walk over. "Those were just for beating the crap out of each other. Mamae tried to teach me to be adaptable. I still favored the greatsword – like her."

"You know how to use all these weapons?" she looks down at me with wide eyes.

"Only enough to not get myself killed." I snort. "I'm not a rogue."

"I would have to agree, Commander." Zevran walks over and plucks down a set of blades that could use sharpening. "May I borrow these?"

I gesture for the others to join us. "Every one pick out what you want. I'll get the sharpening crap. We have a shembitch to hunt."

* * *

So... I'm wearing my training leathers now, and Zevran is wearing bits and pieces I could find of Soris'. Everything is elven-sized, but at least Oghren isn't the only one with armor now. And weapons. Liana decided to take a stave anyway, so she could whack people about. William took a sword, Leliana a recurve-bow, arrows, and a long-dagger, Alistair our largest shield and longsword, Zevran had already helped himself, and I took one of my early greatswords. She's not as pretty or as well-balanced as Holly, but she's better than nothing.

Elves aren't allowed to be armed in the city, so we've decided to stick to back-alleys even if that increases our risk of being ambushed. We're better prepared. And no templars found us, so that's good too.

It takes us a _really _long time to get to the house indicated on that scrap of velum – near the gates to the market district. It's square, and single-floored, but appears to go back some ways. Zevran, being more protected than Leliana, opts to pick the house's lock as we surround him and try to act as inconspicuous as we can. Once we enter there's... _two _Qunari mercenaries. How'd they manage to hire three of these guys? I _think _I saw one _once_. Did they ship them over? Did they get a special price if they bought more than one?

Regardless, one's got... is that a hammer or a maul? Holy shit. My hands tense around my old greatsword, and I dodge a blow that would most probably have shattered my skull. When I regain my barings, I look to see the Qunari frozen in place from one of William's frost spells. I bring my sword up into one of his lesser protected armpits, and twist the blade as I force it through his mail and into the bone with a feral scream. I twist once more for good measure, and remove the blade from his body cavity with a downward pull. His body then erupts into flame, and he drops his maul and flails as he both burns and bleeds to death within moments. The other was taken care of by our comrades. We all work well together, even with these circumstances. Although... I think when I was fighting those mercenaries earlier, William was healing me. A lot. Cause when I took off that dress to don my leathers, I should have had a pierced lung, shattered forearm, and been nearly gutted by the looks of it. Ah, I love William. We work the best together. Mood swing – I need to hug my mage.

I bound up to him and give him a one-armed hug, to which he returns with a bemused smile. Not explaining it. First I'm angry (so angry) and now I need William hugs. What I _really _need is to break into that alienage and kill some shem bastards with Holly and excessive amounts of wondrous violence. Yes. And then hug my family. Many times. That'd be good.

I release William and ready my greatsword, "Zevran – open that door."

When the door opens with a sharp _click _and the assassin's distinctive chuckle, we come to find a lone, ornately (obviously Orlesian) dressed woman with brown hair and sharp features. The shembitch? Pretty please?

Her razor-sharp gaze is trained on our very own Orlesian bard once she steps through the doors. "Leliana! It's so lovely to see you yet again my dear..."

"Spare me the pleasantries Marjolaine." Ooh... Is Leliana snarling? Heh, heh, heh. Oh crap. Now the laugh in my head is sounding like Oghren. Ugh. "I know you're-"

"Oh, you must excuse these horrid accommodations," she sneers with a plastered, so very fake smile. "I do try to be a good host, dear, but you see what I have to work with here? Most horrid. Everything smells like wet dog. It permeates everything – my hair, my clothes. Ugh."

Fucking Orlesians. Can her voice get anymore grating? And shut the fuck up woman. Your playing airs are worse than any shem's at the Pearl. "Cut the crap – why'd you send mercenaries after us?"

"Ah. So blunt, your... _companion_." Her upper lip curls with contempt as she looks at me. That's right – elf, and I'll skin your Orlesian arse.

Leliana leans back on one of her legs in a move that I _know _is just to appear relaxed. She'll throw that dagger into that bitch's chest before I can say 'kill her'. "What happened to make you hate me? Why do you wish my death so badly?"

"Dead? That's preposterous, my Leliana. I do know what you are capable of – you can easily handle those few men." The shembitch waves her arms for effect. "They were to give you reason to find me, you see? And here you are."

"That is the stupidest reason I have ever fucking heard," I say through budding anger. Just like an Orlesian to make no damned sense.

"I'd have to agree, lass. That does seem unreasonable," William says beside me.

"Ignore her words," Leliana turns partially towards us, but keeps her gaze mostly trained on her former lover. "She lies – I know how she works." She turns her full attention back to the woman, shifting slightly that I can see her fingers flex in anxiety. "Why are you in Ferelden Marjolaine? Why are you here?"

"In truth?" The shembitch sniffles. She'd die before she spouts anything truthful. Know her type. Arsehole. "You have knowledge, my sweet. And you can use that knowledge against me. I cannot let that be." She smirks cruelly, "Did you not think I would not keep my eye on you, dear? That I would not know your whereabouts?" She puts a finger up to her chin. I'd wish she'd shut her trap, but if Leliana is letting her blabber, I'll wait. Anger be damned. This is her problem here – this shembitch. "'What is she up to?' I thought. 'The peasant clothes, and ragged boy hair... this is not like my Leliana.'" She huffs, "I had thought you were planning something, but I watched... and nothing. That was disappointing. But I thought you clever, Leliana. And I was correct. You left the Chantry so suddenly. And then what conclusion was I to draw? You tell me dear."

Leliana shifts her weight again, her emotions near cracking through her bard's mask. "You think I left in... in some plot for revenge? For you? You're insane – paranoid!"

"So full of herself. Just like an Orlesian," I offer my two coppers. The furrowing of the bitch's brow and angry set of her jaw was worth the input.

"You think she is the one being truthful?!" Her voice is now coming shrill. Why's she care what I think anyway? Apparently she thinks herself holier than Andraste. "I would not believe a thing she says. Not a one." Oh? Now you're telling me what I ought and ought not believe? I do think you're asking for a blade in your gut. "It is all an act! She will use you!"

"I am not you Marjolaine," Leliana snaps, her weight shifting yet again. Oh, Leliana's patience is wearing thin. Wonder how long it would take. Mine's near-gone.

"Oh, but you are me, my dear." She laughs humorlessly. "You and I are one and the same."

"I've had enough of this shit." I go board-straight and narrow my eyes at her, "No one gives a damn what you say, shembitch."

Leliana seems to agree. "You will not threaten me or my friends ever again, Marjolaine. I want you forever out of my life."

I smile with the promise of those words. Oh, if there were ever words leading to someone's demise, those were them. "Let's make sure of that."

I dash forward with my blade held high, and the shembitch removes two thin and long daggers from her sleeves with a flick of her wrists. Before I can even get into range though, an arrow from the bow Leliana borrowed sprouts out of the base of the bitch's throat. She gurgles and gasps, drowning in her own blood, before crumpling to the floor in a heap and twitching out the last dregs of her life.

"Hey, I wanted to gut her." I look over towards Leliana, but the blood-lust in my gaze doesn't quite match hers. She seems very blank, hollow.

"Let us go, Shiloh. I do not wish to be here any longer."

I look up at William, who shrugs in turn. He didn't say much during this exchange. Wonder why? Regardless, we all turn and follow our favorite bard back to the streets. No words are exchanged as we return to the warehouse to deposit our weapons now that this bloody interlude was taken care of. We still have to find that bastard Genitivi. Leliana is quiet. I don't know what to say.


End file.
